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shmothman · 3 years ago

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THIS POST CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS FOR POKEMON: LEGENDS ARCEUS

Judgement | Forgiveness

Part 6

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five

AO3 Link

Volo Playlist

The morning dawns cold and bright, the snowstorm finally having subsided in the early hours, and you awaken slowly, with a pleasant warmth seeping into your bedroll. You’re only marginally confused when you finally open your eyes to a mass of orange and brown, but the events of last night come back to you as you blink the sleep from your eyes, and you smile when you realize it’s only Arcanine’s huge, sleeping form—it must have moved from Volo’s side to lay between you, keeping you both warm through the night. It lifts its head blearily as you roll over and sit up. As soon as you leave your blankets, you begin to shiver; but pulling on your coat helps, and you need to start a fire, anyway.

Volo is still asleep, his chest rising and falling slowly, and you make sure to move quietly so as not to wake him. He’s going to need all the rest he can get in order to heal—and besides, he looks so much more peaceful in his sleep, without the unhappiness that has recently etched itself below his eyes; you don’t think you could bring yourself to wake him anyway.

So you sneak outside, bringing an armload of firewood to the extinguished campfire, and you call upon your Rapidash to light it. Before long, you have a large pot of clean water for drinking and for cleaning his wounds—and the rest, you’ll use to make soup.

You return inside for a knife and cutting board, and although Arcanine watches you with interest, its tail thumping, Volo still sleeps soundly.

As you peel the sootfoot root, chop the leeks, and shell the beans, you finally allow yourself to dwell on the things you’ve been trying to stay away from: namely, that Volo will take weeks to heal completely, and that not a single part of you wants to leave him until he can take care of himself again. In a way, it’s strange how quickly you make the decision to stay, but you can’t say you’re surprised at your own thoughts. It’s just that you’re going to need to make excuses to your friends, to the Galaxy Team, and to the people of Jubilife Village as to why you’ve been gone so long. Or, you suppose, you could tell them the truth... but quite frankly, it’s only been a few months since Volo’s stunt atop Mount Coronet, and you doubt that the villagers would continue to look at you favorably if they knew you were... aiding and abetting. Even if that’s not quite the truth.

You sigh. Since when did your life become so complicated?

Oh, right. Since you fell through a rift in space and time. Naturally.

You have some King’s Leaf in your bag from your last expedition, so you chop it into tiny pieces and add it to your simmering soup. Maybe you’ll send your Staraptor to Jubilife with a note requesting Rei send a bag of spices back with her—if you have to eat bland camping food the entire time you’re watching over Volo, you might go crazy.

Now the sun is higher above the horizon, creeping over the peaks of the mountains and casting the freshly-fallen snow in blinding white light. Leaving your soup on the fire, you return inside with the pot of water.

Volo is awake.

He looks up as you walk past, still blinking the sleep from his gray eyes. He looks... rather terrible, all things considered, but frankly you’re glad to see him awake. You smile gently, if a bit awkwardly. “Good morning.”

His head falls to the side, and you see him wince. “So it really wasn’t a dream,” he remarks.

You set down the water in the corner of the room, taking a cupful of it for Volo before grabbing a sootfoot root frond to cover the jug with. You kneel by his side.

“How do you feel?” You ask. The side of his head is still slightly swollen, but thankfully, it’s gone down considerably since last night.

“A bit like I fell into an ice cave,” he retorts, and the attempt at dry humor is almost enough to make you snort. Almost.

“Do you feel dizzy at all? Disoriented? Does the light hurt?”

He seems to consider your questions for a moment, then slowly shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” you say. “That’s good. If you start feeling any of those things, let me know. Here,” you push the cup of water toward him. “Can you raise your head enough to drink?”

Wincing, he raises himself onto his elbow carefully, though it makes him clutch his ribs on the other side. For a moment, you think the pain of it might be too much—but then he lets out a long breath, and nods. You hold the cup to his lips, and (slowly, awkwardly,) he drinks.

It takes a while—and a fair bit of gasping in pain on Volo’s part—but you manage to raise him to a sitting position, Arcanine settling at his back for both postural and moral support. You retrieve your first aid kit again and grab a bowl of water this time, and Arcanine helps by warming the water for you as you take the blanket from Volo’s chest, ready to inspect his wounds. His right side, where the scrapes are, is red and raw, but the paste you put on the cuts last night seems to have helped at least some.

Gently, you clean them, dipping your cloth into the warm water and wiping off the dried antiseptic to get a better look, but one of the cuts much deeper than the others, and as soon as he moved to sit up, it must have opened, because blood is once again beginning to seep from it onto the blanket beneath him. If you knew how to do it, you would probably consider stitching it up, but you don’t—you’ll just have to settle for the next best thing. Quickly, you take a dry cloth and hold it to the wound as he winces.

“I’m sorry,” you say as he grits his teeth. The rise and fall of his chest beneath your hand is shallow. You can tell it hurt his ribs to sit up, and he’s struggling to breathe deeply, tears welling up in his eyes.

Unthinking, you caress his cheek with your free hand. “It’s okay,” you tell him in a soothing tone, though you’re concerned at how warm his skin is—if he’s febrile, that’s not a good sign. “I’ve got you.” You need him to relax, otherwise he’s going to hurt himself more.

He winces further as he attempts to take a great gulp of air, and you realize he’s trying very hard to hold back tears. His hair is slightly tangled, and there are a few places that are matted with dried blood. Absently, you note that you’re going to have to help him wash it out. Tucking a strand behind his ear, you do your best to get him to look into your eyes. “Don’t try to hold your breath, okay? It’s just going to hurt worse.”

When he nods, shakily, the tears begin to fall, and you catch them with your thumb, brushing them gently from his face. He must be hurting terribly, and it makes your heart ache.

So you do the only thing you can think to do: you keep talking. You tell him, in measured tones, everything you know of his injuries, and that you’re confident he’ll heal. You tell him that it isn’t as bad as it seems, although it hurts; and you tell him that the hardest part will be waiting. He continues to sniffle and wince, but the tears soon stop, and his breathing becomes more regular again—and when it’s been long enough, you can finally remove the pressure from his side, sighing in relief when you find that the bleeding has stopped.

You smile at him. “See? I’ve got you.”

Now that he’s sitting up, you can bandage him more easily, wrapping his side in gauze—though avoiding his ribs on the other side is difficult, and you have to wrap the bandages around his opposite shoulder and hip to get them to stay. If he moves much, you doubt they’ll stay up... but he won’t be moving much for a while anyway.

When you pull away to inspect your handiwork, Volo begins to shake.

Immediately worried, you draw the blanket back up over him. You thought Arcanine’s warmth would be enough, but if he’s having chills from fever...

You press your hand to his forehead, brow creasing in concern. “Are you cold?” You ask. His skin no longer feels so warm, but then again, you aren’t a thermometer.

Volo shakes his head, and you draw back, confused. He isn’t quite shivering—it’s just his shoulders that are shaking—and when he looks at you with tears in his eyes, you understand.

“Oh,” you say, already moving to hold his face in your hands again, to comfort, to do whatever you can—but he turns his head with another shake, and you pull back.

Right. Your hands fall into your lap. Of course he wouldn’t want you to touch him like this. What were you thinking? Did you so easily forget everything that’s happened?

He must see the change in your expression, the way you sit back on your heels and wring your hands, because he shakes his head again as he lets out a shuddering sob (that makes him clutch his side again in pain). Tears begin to fall again, and he seems to force himself to meet your eyes. “Why?” He asks.

In your confusion, you say nothing. You don’t know what he’s asking you.

“I...” he chokes out between desperate, pained sniffling. “I don’t understand, why are you being so nice to me?”

Oh. You swallow hard, taking a moment to consider your words, but he continues:

“After... after everything I did to you...” There’s a plea in his stormy eyes, but for the life of you, you can’t understand what he’s pleading. “After everything I said... despite it all, you came to my aid.” His tears make tracks down his cheeks, gathering at his chin and falling to his lap. He winces through another broken sob. “And more than that, you continue to...”

He stops, overcome by the pain of trying to breathe through his crying, but you know how he meant to finish that sentence. You continue to be kind to him.

And it’s true, isn’t it? You don’t have to treat him this way. You could continue to help him without being this kind to him. After what he did to you, the way he betrayed you, no one would expect you to be so gentle with him, to be so soft. You’re angry at the way he treated you, and you’re wary of ever trusting him again, and you don’t think that he necessarily even deserves your kindness.

But your kindness is all you have in this world. And Volo cannot hurt you any more than he already has—not now, not injured like this. He has no one; has seemingly never had anyone, and even if that is his own fault, how can you not take pity on him? How could you not be kind, when he so badly needs it?

You aren’t sure how to tell that to him, though. You don’t really know how to respond at all.

When you finally speak, the words that come out are not words that you planned.

“Why did you do it?”

Through his tears, Volo looks up at you in... if not in surprise, then at least in shame.

You can feel the cracks forming: the dam of emotions within you is finally beginning to break, and you can hold your tongue no longer as the words come rushing out in a rapid stream of thought. “I thought that you cared about me. I thought that we were partners in this. In trying to find the plates, and unravel the mysteries—and I get that you never saw it that way,” you add hastily. “I get why you would feel like I just came in and, you know, usurped your life’s goal. I get that you were angry, and jealous. But why...?”

When you sniffle, you laugh bitterly at the same time, and Volo at least has the good sense to look abashed.

Once more, after the weeks of attempting to stamp it down, anger rises hot within you, and you stop for a moment, trying to collect yourself with deep breaths. Anger is what got Volo to where he is, and it’s not something you wish to give in to. When you start again, your voice is quiet, though you’re still speaking through tears. “I can understand why you did almost everything else,” and by understand, you hope he knows you mean you don’t condone. “But why did you kiss me? Was that part of your plan, too?”

All these weeks, you’ve told yourself again and again that his reasoning doesn’t matter. That if you ever had the chance to ask, his answer would still change nothing. But now he is hurting. He is broken, and vulnerable, and you already decided you won’t leave him; so maybe the answer won’t change anything, but you still have to ask.

Now your own tears are falling into your lap, and Volo’s gaze follows them downward, no longer meeting your eyes. It’s silent for a long while.

“Nothing I say can change my actions,” Volo says, “and I certainly won’t ask your forgiveness. But no, it was not a part of my plan.”

You choke out a sob. Honestly, you don’t know if it would have hurt more or less if he had only been using you that entire time, if he had calculated that kiss to serve his own purposes. You hardly know what you’re feeling at all.

But you’ve taken care of his injuries, for now, so you give him a terse nod, wiping your tears.

“I’m making soup,” you say, standing. “I’ll be back in when it’s ready.”

---

For the rest of the day, the two of you say little, though you busy yourself with gathering more food and firewood once you’ve brought Volo a bowl of soup. You borrow his Garchomp for the afternoon, and between it and your pokemon, you manage to bring back a sizable haul of berries, wood, sootfoot root, and leeks—even if you had to fight about a dozen aggressive pokemon to do it. You continue to say very little as you sit by Volo’s side, using a comb and a wet cloth to clean the blood from his hair and tie it into the loose bun you’re so accustomed to seeing on him, and as you check on his leg—still very swollen—and very carefully elevate it on another rolled up blanket. You make sure he eats enough, and drinks enough, and is warm enough.

And as the sun sinks below the mountains, and the sky darkens enough to see the innumerable stars, you think you’ve finally made your decision.

Helping Volo lie down is just as difficult as getting him to sit up was, and he winces with every small movement, though he doesn’t make much noise. You think he’s trying to be as quiet as possible.

He was right, that his words now can’t change his past decisions, his actions toward you. And you aren’t naive—you won’t trust blindly in the idea that he regrets what he did. But you also don’t believe it’s a crime to be cautiously optimistic, to think that people can change. Kamado treated you poorly, too, but he has apologized, and he does his best to make up for it. The whole of Jubilife Village, in fact, treated you poorly, save for a few, like Cyllene, who went against orders to help you. Your feelings for all of them are complicated, too. And what you told Sabi was true: the minute you feel that Volo is planning something, you’ll do anything to put a stop to it. But he’s certainly not planning anything right now, bedridden and broken as he is.

You sit cross-legged beside him, though he doesn’t meet your eyes. “I’m being kind to you because that’s who I am,” you tell him simply. “I don’t really have it in me to be any other way. I haven’t forgotten the way that you hurt me—I just can’t stand to see you like this and not help as much as I can. You’re a person, Volo, and I care about you.”

It’s too dark to see much of his expression, but you can tell that he’s looking at you now. He’s silent for a moment, and then he lets out a rush of air that’s something close to a chuckle. “No wonder Arceus wants to meet you,” he says, and you can’t hear a trace of the bitterness or jealousy with which he spoke of the same thing atop Mount Coronet. He says, “When you found me, in Giratina’s realm, I told you I thought it had been weeks since you found me.”

In the beat of silence, you can hear the wind rising outside the hut.

“I lied. I thought it had been months.”

Your blood runs cold. “Months?”

“The Distortion World... it is not a friendly place to human life. There is water, though it tastes foul. You don’t need food, though you still feel hungry. I thought I was going to die there, abandoned by Giratina, unreachable to you or anyone else.”

Tears spring to your eyes. He had done something bad, yes, but he certainly didn’t deserve to spend (real or perceived) months in the Distortion World, alone and starving.

“And then you came, borne on Giratina itself, and told me it had only been a few days.

“I spent all that time, those months-that-weren’t-months, thinking in circles about what I had done wrong. At first, I thought it was my plan that had been flawed. Certainly, there must have been something, some myth, that I was missing, that could have led me to victory. But eventually, the anger faded. And I realized I had known all along why Arceus chose you, and not me. Of course you fell out of the rift to get in my way; that was Arceus’s point.

“You said it yourself. You’re kind. That’s why Arceus wants to meet you—why it wants to battle you, understand you, perhaps even be your friend.

“I followed you all that time with every intent to take the plates from you once you had collected them all, because I knew I had no chance of them being bestowed upon me—but my jealousy blinded me to the fact that there was a reason they were bestowed upon you. Wyrdeer, the Nobles, and all the others... they all sensed your kindness.”

He’s silent for a long time, and so are you. If he’s telling the truth, that he truly understands and regrets what he’s done...

There’s a waver in his voice when he resumes speaking that makes you desperately sad. “So. I know that I could apologize a thousand times, and thank you a thousand times—and I will, if you’ll let me—but it will never be enough. I do not understand your kindness, but I know that it is the reason I’m still alive. So, thank you. And I’m sorry.”

You take a deep breath, then let it out in a long sigh. Night has fully fallen now, and only the light of the moon reflecting on the snow outside allows you to see his tears. In truth, you’re crying again too. “Volo, I...” you struggle for words. “Thank you, for apologizing. I... I think you know that I can’t blindly trust that you’re telling the truth right now. But I hope that you are. I just... I want you to know that it’s never too late to... you know. Do what’s right. And find happiness, and meaning.”

He sniffles, and you echo the sound.

“It’s getting late. You need to sleep so you can heal.”

Volo sighs. “You’re right.”

“Wake me if you need anything, alright?”

“I will,” he says.

Then, the night is quiet, except for Arcanine’s occasional snore, but you doubt you’ll be able to sleep anytime soon for all the thoughts swirling around your mind.

#pla spoilers #pokemon legends arceus spoilers #pla #pokemon #volo #volo x reader #sef writes #judgement | forgiveness #volo pokemon

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daily-dose-of-imagines · 4 years ago

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ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ɴᴏᴛ | ᴋᴀɪ ᴄʜɪꜱᴀᴋɪ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴏɴᴇ-ꜱʜᴏᴛ

Y’all thought it was oVER? lolol Blame Admin T--- I asked her who I should write for BNHA and she said this SO ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ As always, thank you all so much for the love and support for this blog~! I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did with writing it~!

I do apologize if I don’t capture his character the best ;;”

I won’t lie, I was listening to Might U as I was writing this.

» » Admin Ko

Tedious. At least, that’s what it should’ve been. Yet instead of feeling the normal bouts of irritation at the lack of control he had over the situation at hand, he felt...unnerved. The imaginary seed that was implanted in his stomach all those months ago seemed to only gain in mass.

“...Who are you?”

He shouldn’t have allowed himself to grow these...feelings. Not only did he feel contaminated and utterly sick to his stomach, but the strange ache in his chest did nothing to help soothe his frazzled nerves as those curious yet dim (e/c) hues peered into his sorrowful golden ones.

“...My name is Chisaki Kai...”

“Oh! Hello Chisaki.”

A bout of coughing and another grimace as the pain in his chest amplified tenfold at the horrifying sound. It disgusted him. It truly did, yet instead of feeling the need to get away, he wanted to get closer to her. To comfort her-- hell to shake some common sense into her. Even if it meant he would break out, he just had to do something.

“I...apologize if this seems rude...”

“What is it?”

“...what happened to your arms?”

“...I lost them because I was careless. This...I suppose, is my punishment.”

Her curious stare continued to wash over him as he felt the prickle of goosebumps rise on his shoulders. Turning away, he kept his gaze on the vacant wall of the hospital ward. This was torturous. She was torturous.

Yet still she managed to worm her way into his heart, and he didn’t know whether or not if he wanted to ask for cardiac surgery or to embrace this newfound emotion.

All he really knew was that if he had only been smarter-- hell maybe even faster at coming up with the quirk-destroying drug he could’ve prevented this. He could’ve gotten rid of the parasite that lurked in her veins.

➽───────────────❥

6 Months Ago

“Patient name: (y/n) (l/n). Quirk: Amnesiac.”

Trudging down the corridor, the man once known as Overhaul, walked in step alongside his parole officer / attending doctor. It hadn’t been too long since his arrest and...amputation. In all honesty, he wondered why he was being granted this rare privilege.

An assistant for a patient. That’s all they had told him. Of course Kai had to scoff. How on earth was he supposed to help? With the lack of usable limbs and knowledge limited to that of basic medical needs he didn’t really find a real necessity in this patient’s apparent ‘recovery’.

“...Amnesiac?”

“As it’s name implies, it’s a quirk that deals the user amnesia--- yet in our patient’s case it not only forces her to lose her memories, but practically breaks down her body’s physical state.”

“...In simpler terms?”

“In short every time she loses her memory her body deteriorates along with it. It’s as if her body is, in a sense...rewinding itself forward to make up for the fact that she lost those memories.”

A grimace. If he could, he would’ve spat out that he had been right in his assumption that quirks were just an infestation to the world, this patient clearly being a poor victim of it.

“...And what is my purpose of ‘assisting’ you?”

“As far as I’m aware, you’re pretty damn heartless and selfish. So it should be easy for you to not catch feelings for her whilst being a constant in her life right?”

“A...constant.”

“Yeah, just someone who she sees everyday until well...”

“She passes.”

“I mean...yeah. Damn you really are heartless.”

“Tch. This is a waste of my time is what this is.”

“Hey, you’re helping me whether you want to or not man. It’s just a visit everyday for like, an hour or two at most.”

Another grimace was given as Kai felt a shiver run down his spine. Despite the place he would be in was a hospital, it still brought the ex-yakuza boss a sense of dread. Especially with the amount of infested bodies that littered the place.

“...how long?”

“Holy shit dude, I get that you don’t want to do this but seriously---”

“How long until she loses her memory you dumbass.”

“..Oh. Well, from what we gather they can last from a day, to a couple of months. Though the longer she stays in a...well, let’s call it a session, the more it harms her body.”

“So say she forgets me tomorrow.”

“Then her body moves forward a day.”

“....After a month?”

“She lurches forward a month.”

“Thus leading to a quick progression in her deteriorating health.”

“...Exactly.”

It was, to say the least, unsettling to hear. Never had he heard of such a sickening twist for a quirk. No matter, the deal was simple. If he was lucky, this would last a year-- as fucked up as it sounded, the sooner she passed the less she would suffer in the long run.

As they neared the door, the clear unease that settled on his features was one that his parole doctor could see from a mile away.

“Chill dude, it’ll be fine.”

With that, the door cracked open, and there seated quietly whilst reading a book was a woman. By any standards she was normal, average, easy on the eyes with a slight fae-like feel. Though really it was most likely the early evening glow that cascaded into her room the moment they entered.

All Kai really knew was that it was the moment when gold met glittering (e/c) hues that a seed lodged it’s way into his stomach.

➽───────────────❥

It had started off easy-- well in Kai’s opinion it had. Every other day seemed to be a new start to the ritual that was re-introducing himself to her and making small talk.

In all honesty, he wouldn’t admit it, but the simplicity of being able to have a normal conversation with someone brought a sense of peace in him. Of course this didn’t mean his usual snark and calculating ways-- or so he says.

For Kai, this change in routine was oddly enough, welcomed. With everything he had gone and the collogues he had imprisoned god knows where, the opportunity to engage in small talk was to say the least, enlightening. It had surprised him. As someone who sought out tactical moves in reading his opponents, he found himself at ease with the simplicity of where he was at.

Granted it was albeit dull in comparison to the interrogations he goes through, it was still a part of his routine that he refused to change. Not when he’s been so invested in it.

That changes when the day he enters her room to find that instead of having to reintroduce himself to her, she remembers him. She flashes him a gentle smile with an endearing, “How are you?” and that in itself has the former yakuza leader lose his breath as he can only comically blink at her before forcing himself to adjust to this strange change.

No later did another change occur that brought a wave of new emotions in him. She had touched him. A caress to his cheek, and unsurprisingly in that moment he broke out in hives. His sight blurring as panic shot through his system at the abundance of thoughts that struck his head as the irritation from the hives had him reeling away from her.

He didn’t see her distressed face. Nor did he see the tears that streamed down her cheeks as she desperately sought out someone to help him. Instead, he awoke to his room laying down with his hives treated.

He felt violated. Disgusted, yet still. Even with that he found himself at her door a week later. Prepared to start a new with her and a possible replay of what had happened a week prior. Instead, he found her bowed deeply at the waist as she tightly clutched at the thin fabric of her hospital gown.

“I’m so sorry Chisaki! I didn’t know...I deeply apologize for what had happened!”

“...You...remembered?”

“Of course! You’re someone I can never forget.”

The pit in his stomach grew tenfold as his feet began to walk towards the awaiting lounge chair. Golden hues met truthful (e/c) ones as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat before once again bowing.

“I really am sorry...I shouldn’t have reached out to you like that...”

“...just be more aware next time.”

And like that, the pit in his stomach continued to grow. With each passing day she retained her memories, the more the pit swelled in size, and the more she began to work her way into his heart.

➽───────────────❥

Present Day

He didn’t know why he felt an overwhelming pressure in his gut. The lack of food he ate was odd enough, but to actively avoid something out of his daily routine? It was unheard of. He even made that stupid request to ask his parole doctor to grab (y/n) that stupid drink she liked.

Mentally shaking his head, Kai lightly tapped his shoe against the door before sliding it open.

The sight bestowed upon him though was one that could’ve brought him to his knees as the pang in his chest seemed to duly ache as he dragged his feet into the room.

“...(y/n)?”

It was quiet. The warm beams of the spring sun settled on her pale features as dim (e/c) orbs glimmered at the sight of him. He should’ve seen this coming. Especially after she had remembered him the day it set everything out of pattern. Instead, he turned a blind eye. Out of pure ignorance? He wasn’t remotely sure anymore. All he knew was that she shouldn’t be like this.

She should be her stupid lively self, cracking jokes and sharing her stupid stories with him. Not laying there like a corpse.

“Ah...Chi-- Kai, sorry you caught me waking up from a nap. I’m sorry I don’t look more presentable...”

“Nonsense. Now, tell me what you’ve done today.”

“Straight to the point huh? Sometimes I wonder how you’d ever date anyone.”

Though weak, the teasing tone she held in her voice was one that added more weight to his chest as he seated himself in what she declared the ‘(y/n)’s best friend’s chair’. A stupid name if you asked him, but he wouldn’t tell her that.

And like that, she spoke of her day, simple tasks and duties she’s done during her stay at the hospital while Kai listened to her as the best friend she claimed he was.

As for the new name basis, Kai couldn’t tell anyone when it picked up. All he knew was that it didn’t piss him off as much as it should’ve.

As the time neared for him to leave, she stopped him. A look of hesitance on her face as irritation seemed to grow on his own.

“What is it?”

“....Can I hold your face?”

“What?!”

“With gloves on!”

The statement caught him by surprise. Already he felt the disgusting voices in the back of his head whisper at him yet instead of acting on those voices he found himself mutely staring at her as she fumbled over her words.

All he could really pick out was the light blush that was on her cheeks. The spark of color that brought his feet towards her bedside as she stared up at him with shock in those (e/c) eyes.

“Tch. What are you waiting for?”

Caught off guard, she could only stare at him for a moment before giddily shifting herself to get off the bed. A noise of distaste left his throat at her motion as she merely rolled her eyes and shushed him as she went to fervently clean her hands before snapping on the gloves.

Yet as she did this he couldn’t help but feel the ache in his chest grow even more at the sight of her frail hands and the subtle appearance of a bruise around her wrist at her careless motion of snapping the gloves on. This was immediately forgone as she walked up to him, mindful to keep a distance before she hesitantly held her hands out in a flower cup motion.

At first, Kai had no idea what she was doing, but as he grew to analyze the situation-- as well as remember the odd videos and photos she decided to show him as she sought a sort of relationship herself-- he carefully put his chin into her hands. The hesitancy of her fingers brushing his cheeks pulled a new sort of fondness in his chest as he finally relaxed his cheek against her shy hand.

Golden eyes peered deeply into glimmering (e/c) as he watched her face light up with the most color he had see on her that day. Satisfied, he waited until she finally let go.

“...Thank you, Kai.”

“No problem.”

“No really...thank you...for everything.”

Unease quickly overtook the fondness in his heart as he straightened himself out. Confusion was clearly matted onto his features as he stared down at her.

“...Why are you saying that?”

“What? I can’t say what I want for once? You let me all the time so just let me say this too!”

Finding the whole situation uncomfortable, Kai made his way to the door once more. Though before he left he motioned with his head for her to get back into bed. In response, he got her usual snark as she stuck her tongue out before carefully getting back into bed.

“If you’re on good behavior tomorrow, I’ll have your doctor bring you that drink of yours.”

The light in her eyes was enough to satisfy him and his worries as she nodded quickly before giving him a mock salute as she excitedly got herself comfy in the bed.

“Alright, you promised Kai~!”

➽───────────────❥

“Who are you?”

It should’ve have hurt him as much as it did, but after 6 fucking months. 6 months of her being a daily part of his life where she did not forget him for a single moment came crashing down. The tremble that clutched tightly to his words as he re-introduced himself went unnoticed as he slowly made his way towards the lounge chair that was once considered to be (y/n)’s best friend’s chair.

“...My name is Chisaki Kai.”

“Oh! Hello Chisaki.”

He could tell she was straining with keeping up a happy front. Her appearance was frail. So delicate that he feared anyone who touched her would be the cause of her disappearing before his eyes. The drink he had requested for her sat innocently on the bedside table as she gave him a reassuring smile.

“It’s going to be okay...”

“...what?”

“You look...distressed, I wanted to just reassure you things will be okay.”

No they won’t. He wanted to scream it at her, that the rasp in her voice was punching holes into his gut. That the frail breathing she had was worse than his quirk being taken away from him.

And in that moment, they stayed in silence. Merely watching one another with mixed emotions before he broke back into the routine he once thought would be meaningless.

“...What did you do today?”

Her words, though slow, told him of a peaceful day. One with little adventures and many simple moments that he’s come to slowly appreciate in his own life.

Though as the hour of his leave came, he found it hard to get up from the chair. His feet staying practically cemented to the floor as he watched her peer out the window as the warm rays of the early evening sun cascaded over her. Much like it had that day he first saw her.

Forcefully pushing himself up from the chair, he made his way towards the door. Yet each step he took towards it the more the aching feeling in his chest grew as the fear of his last day in that room came to it’s due date.

“...Kai? Can you turn around for me...just once?”

The words caught him completely off guard as he turned to face her. Those eyes no longer were filed with guarded walls. Instead he was met with the face of (y/n). The woman he came to slowly adore within the past 6 months.

He didn’t even think. Instead he surged forward, practically bruising his legs at the force he decided to stop himself with. Though he didn’t care. The bruises be damned, she remembered him.

“...Can I hold your face? One more time? I promise I won’t ask again. I’ll even wear gloves!”

“...No need.”

The aching in his chest grew tenfold as he found it hard to speak. The overwhelming emotions that sat in his chest were ready to burst out of him. Though he wasn’t sure how. Instead he bent down slightly, finding her confused face even more endearing before he rolled his eyes.

“Well?”

“B-But...the hives---”

“I don’t care. Hurry the fuck up.”

Like that, the confusion vanished as she gently put her hands together in that familiar flower cup motion. Worry was clearly evident in her eyes as she looked at him, but before she could even question again he placed his chin into her awaiting hands. Already the prickly sensation of the hives began to pool as he could feel them form across his skin.

“K-Kai--”

“It’s fine. Shut up. You said you won’t ask again.”

“T-That’s true...”

“Tch. You can make it up to me by getting better so I can show you the world.”

“...when you’re not in prison anymore, right?”

“Right...”

It was hard to speak now. The lump that once was in his stomach had traveled to his throat as he watched her warm (e/c) glisten with unshed tears as she gently caressed his cheeks, ever so mindful of his hives as she tried to at least move her hands. Instead, the male pressed himself further into her touch as the tears began to fall. If anyone noticed the strain in his voice, they didn’t mention it.

“...If you’re gonna be greedy that do what you’ve been wanting to do you romantic obsessed moron.”

With that, she shifted forward before pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead as the tears came down harder. The lump in his throat making it almost unbearable to talk.

“...Thank you Kai...thank you so much for these six months...”

“.....”

“Don’t forget me...okay?”

“Idiot...as if I could even forget the one dumbass that made me breakout after my imprisonment.”

A weak laugh was given as she finally pulled away. With her eyes rimmed red, she shifted to make a call for a nurse, though that was cut short as Kai surprisingly climbed into her bed. No words were exchanged as she reluctantly shifted herself down into the bed-- though it did take time, she managed to curl herself in a way where she left distance between them.

“...aren’t you supposed to go?”

Featherlike and faint, he strained to hear her as he shifted himself down to properly face her as he melted in her (e/c) gaze. The slow dimming of life in her eyes was enough to tell him that it was time. However, he refused to believe it. If anything he’d find her awake the next day with that silly smile on her face. Yet even as he thought about this, the tears that he once thought were impossible for him, slowly began to stream down his cheeks as he nestled himself closer to her.

“....one day won’t kill them.”

“...mmm...”

“....go to sleep angel, I’ll be right here...”

“...and...you’ll be next to me?”

“...always.”

➽───────────────❥

Patient Name: (y/n) (l/n) Chisaki Quirk: Amnesiac

Time of Death: 6:05PM

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #overhaul x reader #kai chisaki x reader #chisaki kai x reader #chisaki x reader #mha scenarios #bnha scenarios #mha imagines #bnha imagines #chisaki angst #we about to drop more angst in this bish #i know i should be working on wips and requests but i can't help it ksksksk

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darkestdawnhq · 4 years ago

Photo

FRANK LONGBOTTOM is a 31 year old PUREBLOOD, a former GRYFFINDOR, and is UNEMPLOYED who is a DEATH EATER and uses HE/HIM pronouns. They are categorized as CODE THREE. They are currently CLOSED.

HISTORY.

Squeezing her around the middle as you whisper in her ear, spending hours painting the nursery. Dancing in the kitchen, long walks in the park. Frank lives in the past now that his family, his world, is gone.

Frank had a happy childhood, his parents doted on Frank and always taught him that good things come to those who are patient and kind. It was the mantra that directed his life. And like was good. Frank was popular at Hogwarts, you couldn’t help but say hi to him in the hallways. He was athletic, kind, intelligent. Frank had some of the happiest of memories at Hogwarts, much of them would only grow to become bitter. Frank and Alice began dating in their 6th year, his family’s owl was getting on in age and kept on mistaking the girl’s dormitory for Franks. Frank never did tell his parents that they ought to switch owls, for he didn’t mind having Alice personally deliver him his mail. Things became pretty serious rather quick, but Frank had never been more sure about anything in his life before.

They hadn’t been graduated from Hogwarts six months before he first proposed. Alice had been worried about getting married during such uncertain times, more and more mass murders and attacks were happening by the week. Finally Frank was able to convince Alice that none of it would matter as long as they had each other. They’d had a small wedding, but it was perfect. Life went on, and even he couldn’t ignore the growing threat of the war. It was a no brainer to the two of them to join the fight, that is until Alice learned that she was pregnant. It was Alice who wanted him to keep on fighting, so he did, for her, for her and Neville , their yet to be born son. Frank hadn’t known how much he’d wanted to be a father until he'd been allowed to dream of him. He wanted to make the world a better place for their unborn son. They hadn’t told him about the prophecy. None of them had.

The worst part had been finding out from a death eater, the supposed enemy. Neither can live while the other survives. When he’d apparated home it had been too late.

First he lived in anger, he couldn’t bear to face any of the Order members. Their supposed friends who had kept such a thing secret from him. If he had known he would never have left them alone, not that night, not ever. He would rather have died with them then go on living this empty existence. It hadn’t meant to be their unborn son, it was supposed to be the Potter boy. He’d found out long afterwards. Frank wasn’t surprised that Voldemort had taken extra measures to be careful. What was a month? What was the life of a child? A wife? So instead of being angry at sense, Frank instead has embraced it.

These days he’s barely recognisable as the man he was before. His reason for living, gone. He barely remembers life before Alice, and his time with his son was stolen. Frank instead spends his days staring into the depths of dark drinks, forlorn toys laying about him. A long dead bouquet of flowers upon the kitchen sink. He’s a death eater now, they’ve left him alone for the time being but he knows it’s only a matter of time before they come knocking.

CONNECTIONS.

ALECTO CARROW: Tracked By. Frank knows they’ve got someone following you around. It’s not as though he gets up to much these days anyway. He can’t blame them for doubting his loyalty though, he wouldn’t trust him either. Apparently it’s a common theme. But Frank’s not about to go running back to the Order anytime soon, it’s only a matter of time before they realise and he can be let alone to wallow in peace once again. Still, It’s a shame she really has to waste time following him from home to the pub and back again day in day out. He simply lets her follow him about, there’s something welcoming about the distraction. It’s rather entertaining, the way she takes her job so seriously, as if she has something to prove.

MIKHAIL VULCHANOV: New Friend. Frank has gotten sick to death from the looks of pity everybody seems to send his way. It’s either pity or sneers and both are just as bad as the other. Mikhail however, is a new acquaintance. New to the country, the other wizard doesn’t know who he was before and therefore has no expectations of him. Frank’s glad for the company. It almost feels like he can open some sort of a new chapter.

CARADOC DEARBORN: Annoyance. Caradoc wont seem to leave Frank alone. It’s almost as though he’s scared that Frank’s going to blow the whistle on him. Maybe he ought to, Caradoc probably knew about the Order’s best kept secret. The thing is, Frank’s lost his fight, he doesn’t care. He just wishes that Caradoc would stop trying to get him to ‘talk it out’. The only person he wants to talk to about his feelings is dead, and to Frank, Caradoc may as well have been one of the ones who pointed his wand at her.

KINGSLEY SHACKLEBOLT: Despises. There’s little that stops Frank from gouging out Kingsley Shacklebolt’s eyes with his own fingers whenever he sees him at the local. One thing is that he’s usually barely able to stand upright himself in order to start a brawl, but he hasn’t let Kingsley forget about his mistakes. Perhaps he ought to feel bad about the guilt trip he gives the other wizard but he can’t bring himself to feel bad not when he feels as though his lost out on far more than Kingsley did.

Currently portrayed by THEO JAMES

#Frank Longbottom #Theo James fc #marauders era rp #marauders era au #hp rp #Theo James #male #pureblood #gryffindor #death eater #code three #closed

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theoriginalladya · 4 years ago

Text

Lonely Sunday Morning (fanfic)

So, a bit of a setup here: some 4-5 years ago maybe(?) I created Michaela Shepard to RP with @scarletthalloran‘s Kaidan Alenko. During that time, she introduced me to Levi Kreis’ songs. Several in particular stood out as really good Mass Effect inspiring, but Lonely Sunday Morning just spoke to me on another level altogether. Ever since then, I’ve been trying to finish a fic I started for her tied to that. Tonight, I finally finished it.

Here you are, my dear! I’m so sorry it took so long, but just know these two are always in my mind, and though short lived, I had a blast playing Michaela with your Kaidan! :) <3

(under cut for length)

Setting: Normandy post-Thessia

On AO3 here

~~~

Like a lion through the high grass of the savannah, exhaustion stalks her every move, and with each mission, every battle, it is only getting worse. If she feels anything, it is the weight of every minute, every hour, every day that passes since fleeing Earth and the Reaper attack. It doesn’t matter that it was for the good of the galaxy; it still hurts, and moving the entire process forward is a painful battle of its own, at times even against herself. She is drained; no doubt about it. Spent physically, emotionally, any and all ways a body, mind and spirit can be wrung out. But the missions come with such frequency and with very little of the precious downtime in between, she feels as if she is perpetually cracked, her life seeping out through the fissures.

The war is taking its toll on her crew as well. On her friends. Mistakes have been made. The risks are starting to outweigh the benefits, but what other choice is there? The fate of the galaxy is on the line and they, she, is the only one who can get them there. Winning is the only option; well, not the only, but failure certainly isn’t in the cards. Not if she has a say in it. At the very worst, they die trying, and if that is their destiny, at least they will leave better counsel in place for the next cycle.

Shepard’s towel slithers down her body to form a muddled heap at her feet. She chooses to ignore it and the many regulations drilled into her during basic so many years ago, instead opting to crawl straight beneath the sheets. Temptation is a dangerous thing, she recalls hearing somewhere. Right now, temptation wins out, though guilt tracks her quickly on its heels and attempts to gain traction … to no avail, the shower having taxed all remaining strength to push it away.

So close, she thinks as her head hits the pillow, tears finally forming as the truth wraps around her like a shroud. We were so damned close … and now we are even further away than before …

The dampness of her hair soaks the pillow and case, but she doesn’t care. Her eyes close, blessed sleep just within her grasp. To escape the failure, if only for a fleeting moment. She wants, needs, to recharge. To process. To find a way to cope so that she can charge forward tomorrow as they need her to …

Bedclothes drawn over her shoulders, the soothing light from the fish tank the only source of brightness in the room, reality smacks her in the face with the force of a krogan headbutt, and she shudders. Realization, even at this depth of exhaustion, is not kind; it doesn’t matter how tired she is, how badly her body wants to fade into unconsciousness, her brain is unwilling to accommodate her and will not shut off. Focusing on good times, envisioning familiar, friendly faces – none of that will help. Distraction comes in many forms, but right now, behind closed eyelids, all she sees are tactical plans, desperate fights for survival, and the face of defeat … behind a mask and a sword .... Like an old school horror film, it replays over and over and over …

A scream builds in her throat, the desire to yell and curse and blast anyone or thing close enough to her in this moment. She needs rest, dammit! If she’d only been a little faster, smarter, stronger on Thessia, they wouldn’t be in this situation. She cannot afford another mistake on that magnitude!

Biting back a half sob of frustration and anguish, she sits up and wraps her arms around her legs, dropping her forehead to rest on her knees. It’s too much. I can’t keep doing this. WHY WON’T YOU LET ME SLEEP???

The inner voices that often chide her during such times remain suspiciously silent this night. The replay of events on Thessia, however, do not.

Her chest aches, just the tiniest bloom near her heart, but it grows exponentially and spreads, its menacing tendrils burrowing deep. Her head starts to ache, beginning in her temples and slicing outward, searching for all of the most inconvenient and uncomfortable places …

This, however, she is prepared for. Without lifting her head, she extends her hand to the nightstand drawer and pulls it open. She fumbles a moment, eventually settling upon the small bottle of painkillers that the doctor provided weeks ago. The rattle from within assures her there are at least two left; it is enough. She pops them into her mouth and downs them without water. Enough is enough. Maybe this will help the other issue as well.

The bottle falls to the floor from nerveless fingers and she prays the relief comes quickly. It won’t last long, but if it can take the edge off, perhaps it will also allow her mind to be at ease and sneak stealthily past the images into unconsciousness …

Ten minutes past. Twenty. As the thirty minute mark comes and goes, a lone tear leaks from closed lids and trickles down her nose to drip silently into the sheets.

Opening her eyes, Shepard sits up, a sigh of frustration easing past her lips. She turns her attention to the tank, eyeing the creatures inside, desperately wishing for a way to escape reality for just five bloody minutes with no other care in the world. Just five damned minutes -- she isn’t greedy! -- to rest.

Rolling to her feet, she grabs the offensive towel out of spite; she could ignore it again but the risk of tripping in her current state outweighs any momentary rebelliousness. With a flick of her wrist, she tosses it in the direction of the sofa … and then groans when it falls behind it. Nothing, it seems, can be a win these days …

It's then she notices her last chance, her one saving grace. Lying on the coffee table and flipped onto its face is her music datapad. She crosses the room in three strides and grabs it as well as the earbuds and returns to bed. A simple touch of her finger to the pad starts the playback. Something soothing and gentle, she hopes. Something that will transition her failure into sleep so she can get proper sleep to deal with whatever the reapers or Cerberus throw at her next. You win some, you lose some, she recalls her father saying once so many years ago. With a sigh, she thinks, Yeah, Pop, but today we lost an important one … one that might just keep us from winning the whole thing ….

She desperately hopes she is wrong on that count.

Lying back, her eyes close and she sighs heavily as the first soft strains of piano filter in. It isn’t any song she is familiar with, but it has a nice sound to it … and then a deep, powerful, rich voice starts to croon. Resonate.

She bolts upright, eyes wide, breath tight in her chest. She knows that voice! This isn’t some professional recording, either – there’s a scratchiness in the background that suggests it was recorded over omni-tool. It also does nothing to hide the way the notes, so vibrant and compelling, meld with words that pull a deep and purely emotional response from within.

I can still taste you on my lips

I can still smell you on my sheets

I can still feel the way you tremble

When I hold you close to me

All thought of blissful peace in unconsciousness flees with the strength of a biotic flare. And she doesn’t care …

It's like everything about you

Is everything I need

Waking up without you

Is gonna be the death of me

I'm not so use to silence

I can't find you anywhere

The tears are automatic -- between lyrics and music, she cannot help it. With shaking hands, she lifts the datapad and searches for clues to its owner because it certainly is not hers.

~ n ~

Wearily, Kaidan exits the lift and enters the cabin as silently as he can. He’s aware, from EDI, that Shepard retreated here after speaking with the asari Councilor, Admiral Hackett, and following up with Liara. There is a pattern in her retreat, one he isn’t certain she’s aware of, but now is hardly the time to argue about it. Her constant state of go, go, go in the face of so much adversity without recharging is of concern to him. She is their pillar of strength at the forefront of this crusade, and she needs it as much if not more than any of the rest of them.

Still, she is who she is, and that isn’t worth arguing about either; thus the head start in the hopes she might take advantage of the opportunity and for once give in to her own needs. The fact that she’s here in her cabin suggests she may have.

He enters to darkness, the glow of the fish tank his only guide, but it’s more than enough, particularly for someone used to taking refuge in dark corners for torturous migraines. He maneuvers through the cabin with grace and skill and very little if any sound …

Until he realizes Shepard is sitting unnaturally upright in the middle of their bed. Starlight from the overhead window streams down over her; it’s more than enough to see she is shaken. Something about it, something he can’t put into words, leaves him uneasy. She turns toward him, their eyes meet, and he finds something hauntingly familiar there. “Shepard?”

“Kaidan ...”

Her voice is but a rough rasp of a whisper, but her eyes remain on his, on him. He swallows back wariness and descends the steps to sit on the edge of the bed. “Are you alright?” He is hesitant to reach out in case it startles her, and yet he cannot help himself. “Have a bad dream?” he asks as he laces his fingers with her free hand. “Is there something I can --”

She touches a datapad he didn’t see, and the air around them fills with sound.

“It's a lonely Sunday morning

Cuz you left me without warning

And I don't know how to make it through this lonely Sunday morning…”

The words and music are as familiar to him as breathing, but his eyes widen in shock as she sings along. “How did you …?”

She hands over what turns out to be his music pad. The one, he realizes, he never tucked back away in the drawer where he normally leaves it because they arrived early to Thessia and the situation there far more dire than anticipated ....

“Kaidan.”

Her voice cracks on his name and he winces at the pain in it. “Shepard, let me explain.”

She sets the pad aside and lifts her other hand to frame his cheek, turning his face toward her. “No need,” she whispers before leaning over to ghost a kiss across his lips. “I only have one question - why didn’t you tell me?”

He sighs – half in relief, half at the weight of having kept this from her for so long. “I …” He drops his gaze to their joined hands. “Losing you hurt,” he replies. It’s a simple excuse, too simple for what they’ve been through, but it’s the truth. “I needed a way to let that pain go.”

Against his cheek, he feels her hand tremble. “Do you … do you think … maybe you could teach me?”

“Hey.” He moves the pad out of the way and pulls her over onto his lap, wraps his arms around her, hums softly with the song. “Next time we’re on the Citadel?”

She nods, tucking her head against his shoulder. The song kicks into a repeat cycle, softly filling the air around them. “Sing for me?”

He presses a soft kiss to her forehead.

I can still taste you on my lips …

#mass effect fanfiction #ladya writes #fshenko #Michaela Shepard #Lonely Sunday Morning #Levi Kreis #scarletthalloran #Love you dearest!#thank you for being so patient!!!!

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shardweavers · 4 years ago

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Chapter Six - Broken Wings

The sound of footsteps echoed down the long, quiet terrace as Shoto made her way to her room. All the while, fresh tears continued down her face. Why? Why did it feel this way? This pain was similar to when she'd lost those who were close to her. Could she really say that Emet-Selch was 'close to her'?

It did feel like an emptiness with his absence...

The Miqo’te paused for a moment at her door, as she pictured a familiar face from her past; Haurchefant. She could see him in his Ishgardian Knight's armor, his light blue hair fluttered in the cold, Coerthan breeze. There had been many nights she'd spent at his side, by the hearth fire, regaling him with stories of her adventures. He always listened intently, and was always eager to hear more stories. There was always a mug of hot cocoa ready for her when she arrived, and she'd find hours swiftly passed while she held it and spoke with him. The flavor of that cocoa was smooth, and never failed to warm her after a long day of work in the snowy hills of Coerthas. No one had thus far been able to replicate the man's recipe.

She heard his last words again; the ones she held onto...

“A smile better suits a hero.”

Several tears fell onto the shoebill's feathers at the memory, but the bird didn’t seem bothered. She nodded to herself, then forced a smile onto her face to stop the tears.

"Hang in there, little guy. We're almost there." The Miqo'te re-adjusted the bird in her arms to open the door. The shoebill seemed disgruntled by the movement, but didn't cause too much of a fuss. The door clicked open to a fresh, clean room. The bed sheets looked to have been recently laundered, and there was a nice array of fresh fruits displayed on the table. More than likely, it was another kind gesture put forth by the Exarch, just like the sandwiches had been. She would definitely have to thank him later.

The shoebill rustled and fluttered out of her arms. Emet-Selch hurt, and was on the verge of losing consciousness again; he could not let that happen. The Ascian needed to move to somewhere safe.

'Safe? Where, in this place, is safe?'

In his panicked state, though, he hit the edge of the nightstand, rather than the bed he had aimed for. The bird knocked over the lamp, then collapsed onto the bed in a heap, breathing heavily. Shoto rushed over to the bedside, and spoke as calmly as she could manage.

"Hey, hey. It's okay. You don't have to be frightened."

The Miqo'te stopped, then thought for a moment. She bit her bottom lip as she realized, 'Of course this poor bird is frightened. He was hurt and doesn't know these surroundings.' She was no specialist on birds, nor animals of any kind, but she was a Healer by trade. She took a breath, then slowly edged toward the bed. Shoto moved a hand over the bird, and concentrated on a more thorough examination with her aether to find the problem.

She paused... this couldn't be right. She could tell the injuries were definitely internal, but the mass was larger than this bird. Her expression grew more puzzled as she tried to expand her aether a little further to investigate the cause.

The bird's eyes shot open as he felt the intrusion of aether. He tried, but could no longer hold this form. There was a strained squawk as he braced for the pain he knew would come.

What had been a bird suddenly grew larger before the Miqo'te's eyes. Shoto's concentration instantly broke. She fell backward onto the floor with a surprised squeak, and landed directly on her rear. Her surprised expression remained on her face as she stared. What had been a shoebill just a moment ago was now a man.

An all too familiar-looking man.

He sat with his arm held across his middle. His hair fell over his face, which hid it from her point of view. In all her years in the field as a Scholar, this was new. She sat frozen on the floor, and tried to process what she saw before her.

He knew she was startled. Hells, anyone would be.

Emet-Selch grimaced, and clenched his teeth as he doubled over a bit further. By Zodiark, he really hated this 'mortal' thing. Without access to his normal power, he could not heal his wounds like usual. The Ascian still had enough of his aether to at least be aware of his surroundings. He could tell she was still on the floor. A half smirk pulled at his lips, and he finally spoke.

"It's been a while, hero..."

His voice was very familiar. But... why...? That turn of phase. It was so similar to what had happened earlier in the plaza. Shoto looked a little more carefully at the man on the bed. She noted the short, brown hair, and the shock of white in a small section of the front. A swell of mixed emotions washed over her.

'No... no, this isn't possible,' she thought, as words just wouldn't form from her mouth. She had struck him down herself. The battle of the Champion of Dark against the Champions of Light. Angel, Ice, Yuki and Sumire had been right there with her when it happened. They had helped along with the other Warriors of the First Shard so she could land the final blow. She had pierced him with the light axe. They had all seen him disappear into aether...

So, how was this possible...?

Pain suddenly hit the Ascian hard once more. His head tilted back to reveal his face; beads of sweat dripped down his face from his brow. His strength left him swiftly, and he fell back onto the pillows.

Shoto no longer had any doubt in her mind the moment she saw his face: this was Emet-Selch. The very same person she and the others had faced several weeks ago. His face, though... the pain did not seem like an act, and he grew noticeably paler the longer he lay there. Her mind reeled with so many questions, she could only sit on the floor, flabbergasted. Why did he come here... to the very people that had sought his end? It made no sense. Her chest tightened as those pangs of guilt and sorrow returned; tears threatened to overtake her once more. The Scholar felt like she was back in that moment--in the ruins of Amaurot--watching as he faded away...

Emet-Selch gasped out in pain. He opened one amber eye to look towards her; was she not going to help? Perhaps he was a fool to think he could come here. He shut his eye once more, and focused instead on trying to level out his labored breathing. He briefly thought that maybe he should give in and let his body expire, but he immediately knew better; Elidibus would just find some way to bring him back again. He had done so in the past once before, and he would absolutely do it again; 'no rest for the wicked' as the saying goes. His body felt so tense from the pain, he found it difficult to settle his breathing.

Shoto finally shook off her shock, then cautiously moved over to him. Her guilt weighed heavily on her heart, and reminded her that she'd experienced so much loss of life already.

Moenbryda, Minfilia, Papalymo...

Haurchefant...

The memories of friends she had lost in her many battles filtered through her mind, and she could not bear to deal with it again. Her healer's instincts yelled at her to try to help him; enemy or not; and she listened.

A warm, soft yellow-orange glow gently washed over Emet-Selch. It was calm, and soothing; like the warmth one would feel from the midday sun. The pain was immediately less intense, and continued to ease as the glow remained. His mind wandered at the sudden relief, and he allowed his consciousness to slip into slumber. His features softened as he relaxed. His face looked to be at peace as he slumbered; like the burden of the world had been lifted from his shoulders.

The warmth he had felt was her aura and aether as she worked to mend what she could, so he could safely sleep.

Letting her aether's flow end as the healing magicks ran their course, Shoto was wracked with a new sense of guilt; the sense of having helped their implacable foe. What were you thinking? part of her seemed to shout. This man, this bird, everything he was and would be was nothing less than a Paragon, the very architect of Norvrandt's near-demise.

Even if she shouldn't let him suffer, should she have...?

No. No room for such doubts. What was done was done! She smacked her own cheeks lightly, shaking her head. Focus, Shoto, focus!

The Miqo'te realized she should examine him; just to make sure there were no external wounds she was missing.

Moving to open his overcoat more, she unclasped the belt that held it in place, then worked to unbutton the front of his white undershirt to check for visible injuries. Emet-Selch mumbled to himself as she moved the shirt back, and she immediately looked over to make sure he was, in fact, still asleep. This was hard enough as it was, she didn't need him awake for it.

Shoto looked back down and the color drained from her face a bit: a large scarring marked his torso... right in the spot she had struck him in their last battle. Another new pang of yet another variety of guilt washed over her; this one the same, familiarly heavy guilt that had been with her since the day she'd...

Without thinking, her fingers reached down and brushed across the scar. Pain immediately erupted in her head as the Echo came. The room went white and changed as she tried, in vain, to get it to stop.

No! No! Please, not now...

The vision was a haze. A tall, dark-robed figure walked down the streets of a giant city. This city was the grand city of Amaurot. It looked much like the recreation in the Tempest, but was even more beautiful to see in this vision. The sky had quite a heavy rain coming down upon the city. The figure's hood slid back to reveal his white locks. Shoto instantly realized this was Emet-Selch; his hairstyle was the same, for the most part, but his hair was all white. He didn't bother to fix his hood, and hurried his pace as if he were searching for something. As he hurried along, the rain began to let up. Emet-Selch paused, then stretched his hand out, palm up. He noted the easing rain as he looked up, then continued forward in his hurried pace. Up ahead, a smaller, black-robed figure sat on a bench, and stared quietly up into the sky. The rain drops bounced off their white mask; it was exactly like those Shoto had seen in the recreation of Amaurot. Their robes clearly drenched from the recent downpour. Emet-Selch stopped within a few fulms of this person.

"You'll catch a cold, being out in the rain like this, you know." In response, the figure turned their gaze to him with a soft smile. They waited only a breath before they spoke.

"Always such a worrier, Hades! I just wanted to enjoy the refreshing feeling of the rain against my skin. It's peaceful." Their voice was light, and the tone gave away that they were female. “Come, have a seat beside me.”

Emet-Selch sighed loudly, dramatically, but took a seat beside her despite this show of overwrought put-uponness; his gaze never broke from her, not once. Shoto thought she could almost feel the care he had for this person through the Echo.

Who is this? Shoto thought.

In the vision, Emet-Selch was crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows. "Of course I worry. You tend to be reckless."

The woman laughed as she replied, "There is nothing to worry about, Hades. Your wandering star knows all too well how to fend for herself. Even if my new duties to come take me far away, I will always return to be right here at your side."

He smiled back, and his lips moved to speak a name to the figure... but it was oddly drowned out. The scene hazed, and a voice echoed into her mind.

'It's quite impolite to intrude into someone else's mind.'

Shoto's eyes fluttered open as she awoke from her vision, the grip of the Echo fading. As she tried to get her bearings, the Miqo'te realized with mounting dread that she had passed out, and had fallen forward... onto the Ascian before her.

To make matters worse, he was now awake, and staring at her with both his usual wry amusement and some sort of new intense curiosity. Red raced across her cheeks as embarrassment threatened to kill her. Emet-Selch glanced down to his open shirt, then back to her, a sardonic smirk curling his dark lips.

"Well~. Quite enjoying the show, were we?"

Shoto didn't answer, her voice caught in her throat. She pushed herself off of him quickly, and tried to regain her composure; she did notice he seemed to be healed for the most part for now. Thank goodness for small mercies, maybe?

"I suppose I owe you my thanks. Although," Emet-Selch looked away from her, and towards the wall, "I have to say, I'm quite surprised my half-subconscious gamble paid off, o Warrior of Light." "...You mean, 'why did you help me?'"

The Ascian shrugged. "It's a fair query, isn't it?"

"...Hn. W-well, I mean, the same goes for you," Shoto said as she drew in a breath. After this slight pause, she tilted her head, "Why did you come seeking aid here, of all places? That's more of a gamble than I'd expect from you, Ha...Emet-Selch."

The Ascian was still looking away; his face was, as ever, hard to read.

A long moment of silence passed, and just when it became truly unbearable, he spoke again.

"...I believe I posed my question first."

Of course he'd say something like that. Shoto then let out a loud sigh, and threw up her hands in defeat.

"Honestly? I...I don't know." She frowned as she tried to once more focus on his face. The Warrior of Light and Darkness felt conflicted; so many thoughts and questions flew through her mind. He had been gone, lost forever, a memory only that he had once lived...And this had been the right thing to do.

So the relief and joy she felt was, was alien, was wrong, wasn't it?! Haurchefant and the others hadn't been their enemy, like he was...! Yotsuyu's demise had been tragic, and the wound it carved through Gosetsu's heart a horror to see, but the knowledge she would never bedevil them again was still a lifted weight...! Shouldn't there be some terror at seeing Emet-Selch again...?!

‘Was it really him, even? Couldn't some other Ascian assume his face as a mask...?’

He turned to look at her as the thoughts crossed her mind; as if he could hear them. It seemed to intensify his smirk as his golden eyes met hers again.

"I see~. Perhaps I truly convinced you of the righteousness of our cause! Ah, yes, you've clearly been swayed to the side of Reunion! And to think, all it took was a dramatic death-scene," Emet-Selch said with a malevolent chuckle. "Oh, the scandal, dear Warrior of Light! What will the Scions think??"

She flicked her tail as he spoke, annoyed. Ohhh, it was the genuine article, alright; her doubts on that score were gone. No matter how good an actor, no one else could've genuinely needled her the way he did.

The Ascian went to rise, and the smirk fell away in an instant, replaced by a pained wince. His hand wrapped across his chest. Shoto noticed, and bit her lip.

"I was able to seal your wounds, but some of it will have to heal naturally on its own."

She eyed the wound on his chest once more, guilt obvious on her face; Emet-Selch noticed, of course.

"Oh, come now, hero. Are you truly that worked up, over this little mark? Surely you didn't think you could get rid of me that easily."

She forced herself to ignore his snide comment, and instead, persisted with her own questions.

"Who was that woman in your memory?"

Emet-Selch's eyebrows raised, then he shrugged as he shook his head...he was deflecting, and it was obvious by his immediate I-don't-care-and-never-could affect.

"Now now, if you're going to aid the glorious cause of Rejoining, you have to remember the basics, dear hero. I told you, we seek to restore our friends, family, and loved ones."

I could ask, 'which was she', but the answer's obvious...

"You loved her, didn't you?" Shoto asked quietly.

Emet-Selch's lips pursed in annoyance, his brow furrowing as his cheeks colored lightly and he scowled at her.

"That hardly seems relevant. Let's instead return to your first, more intelligent query. 'Why take the gamble?'"

Shoto rolled her eyes lightly and crossed her arms with a huff. "Fine, then."

Another moment of silence, and Hades sighed again, his shoulders slumping in that world-weary way he had.

"Tch. Unfortunately, I think my answer would be similar to yours; a complicated matter of circumstances and 'it just felt right at the time.' I must suppose, however, that I made the right choice, seeing as you did heal me."

His eyes narrowed on Shoto in that moment. It was as if he were looking through her; his expression shifted to more of a puzzled look.

What he was studying was the aetherial nature of her soul...a soul that had changed since he last observed it. During their last battle, she had been the cusp of changing into a sin eater, when she was suddenly renewed.

In what he had been sure was merely a trick of the Light, he had seen...

My wandering star.

The soul before him was still not complete, but it was certainly more vibrant than it had been before. Its hue could not go unnoticed, but he was more focused on its strength. He quietly muttered, "Eight times rejoined," and those words sounded familiar to Shoto. They were the same words he had said before, only the number had been seven then.

"You said that before," she replied, then tilted her head.

He still seemed lost in thought, almost as if he'd expected her answer...

"Hythlodaeus did say you were distracted," she commented quietly to herself.

"How do you know that name?" he asked, that intensity suddenly, almost violently returning to his gaze and demeanor. His face suddenly looked stern, his amber eyes were piercing; he had still heard her. Shoto’s ears tipped back at his sudden change in demeanor, then she blinked in confusion. Her ears flicked as she recovered herself, settling into a chair beside where he was laid out.

"W-When we traveled to the city... the... city of Amaurot... that you recreated. There was... one shade that acted... differently from all the others.”

She looked down and thought for a moment, as she recalled the memory,

“He said he knew that he was just a shade, and told me that his name was Hythlodaeus. He also mentioned that he used to be a friend of yours, and said you seemed distracted as of late…” The Miqo’te paused for a moment, unsure if she should continue. She went ahead only when he said nothing, his gaze still fixed on hers.

"Hythlodaeus noted the color of my soul. He said it was... 'the same as hers'." The dark-haired Miqo'te looked up at the Ascian, "I didn't know what he meant. Was that woman in your memory--"

"Stop," Emet-Selch interrupted her, "Stop, stop, stop. That's not important right now, and I must needs process what you've already told me.” He let out a loud sigh as he folded his hands in front of his face, as he looked off to the side, “You spoke to Hythlodaeus..."

And once more, he was lost in thought. For several moments, awkward silence reigned in the room between them; silence accompanied only by the feeling of his piercing golden eyes on her. He was staring through her again, as if he were looking at something that she couldn't see...it made her feel unsure, of...of their conversation, of everything. After a tortuously long time, he finally lifted his head from behind his hands, then spoke quietly again.

"I'm curious about something, come closer for a moment."

Shoto's eyes narrowed and she bit her lip, not moving.

He sighed as he shook his head, "Oh, for Zodiark's sake. Must we truly continue with this farcical tension? Look at me, hero." The Ascian put his arms out to the sides, "My hollow jests about your 'obvious change of heart' aside, do I seem like I'm in any condition to attack you, or ensorcel you, or do anything untoward? I flew here in the form of a ridiculous seabird, you'll recall."

He had a point; she could tell he was still drained from his injuries, and there wasn't any indication of ill intent, not now.

Relaxing a little, she moved over to the bed. He patted the edge to indicate she should take a seat beside him. Reluctantly, Shoto did so, and looked up at him. Emet-Selch reached out a hand with his palm up. The Miqo'te looked confused, as she slowly reached out to touch his hand.

The moment her hand made contact, it was like a spark ran through her. She felt the warmth of his hand, but also felt the sensation of her hand on his in return...!

A connection, a link. Like a strand of string, an aetherial tether. Had it always been there...? No, it couldn't be...She pulled her hand back quickly, but the feeling lingered for a moment before it stopped.

"What did you do?" she asked with a frown.

Emet-Selch just shrugged.

"Nothing. Besides, perhaps, confirming...a...a theory." Shoto blinked in confusion, her ears flickering as she tilted her head again. Between this and his evasion of a certain topic...

Emet-Selch looked over towards the window and sighed heavily again, “Alright, alright. Though I speak the truth when I tell you I did nothing to you, dear hero, I can tell you will not be satisfied with just that." He tapped his chin. "Perhaps a history lesson is in order. You must be familiar with the customs of your Eternal Bonding Ceremony, back in dear old Eorzea?"

While still confused, the Miqo’te simply nodded when he glanced back at her.

"Good, that makes this a bit easier to explain. Let me tell you the root of that ceremony, then."

His voice changed, taking on a more wistful tone, the tone he'd had when telling of the glories of Amaurot and the sorrow of the Final Days.

"In the days of Amaurot, life was all but eternal; a perfect, beautiful cycle. When it was time to renew oneself, one passed into the Underworld to be reborn anew, welcomed back into the world. It was nothing like how it is now; nothing so frail, so short, prone to a death with no hope of restitution for the best and the returning-luck of a bad copper piece for the worst..." He shook his head, grumbling, and moved on. "Given the flow of life back then, it was hardly uncommon to find someone whose soul resonated with your own. Even if you didn't have the Gift of Sight, you could tell when you found....” He could tell she still seemed a bit confused, “...a perfect partner, to use simple, unworthy terms. A person who reflected you, completed you. Each being one half of a whole. A soulmate."

He paused for a moment, letting his voice trail off...letting himself remember passing an orange gemstone to a slender hand-- Shoto cleared her throat, and he ceased his reverie. Hades didn't jump or show outward surprise; he merely continued where he left off.

"...she was my soulmate. The one you saw in my dream."

His amber eyes met her sapphire ones, "We decided to go through with our own Eternal Bonding Ceremony. The ceremony your tradition derives from." A soft smile spread across his face.

“She was the bright, wandering star in my night sky. My...My Azem."

That word. A pang struck Shoto's heart when he spoke that word, tears pricked her eyes. But why...?

“In Eorzea, of course, it is simply an exchange of vows and rings... in Amaurot, the bond that we forged was something much more literal. Much less easily sundered..." Emet-Selch’s smile faded as an ache from his wounds panged through him, looking exhausted as he finished his explanation.

Shoto felt more than a little light-headed.

Her thoughts whirled like a cyclone, jumbled together. She wanted to press him with a hundred more questions, ask him what he was suggesting, what he was implying, everything, he couldn't mean...

No. That wouldn't do. She needed to process his return, to begin with, and he needed rest. It was good that he was in no condition to attack, but what if he worsened due to fatigue, became dangerously ill? What if she lost him again? She'd never have the answers to her questions then, right?

She stood up, then looked at the hand that had touched his.

"You should rest," she nodded, then gestured toward the bathroom, "I'm going to go take a bath, and gather my thoughts. I... honestly don't know what to think at the moment...But...I will have more questions for you."

"I will be here," he said with only mild sarcasm. He had nowhere else to go.

Shoto nodded silently, and with that she left the Ascian be and left for the bath, where she could be alone with her thoughts.

Emet-Selch was, indeed, beyond exhausted. His wounds needed to further heal...and he needed to spend the night as a man, not a shoebill. The Ascian leaned back on the bed, closed his eyes, and let the darkness of sleep claim him.

(Second image was drawn by one of our writers @xehniscreations.)

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yamithediaperdork · 4 years ago

Text

It’s a living (Ben 10 omiverse)

it was a nice and peaceful day in Bellwood for a change, though considering it wasn't the main stream universe's Bellwood that made a degree of sense. In fact even as the main verse Ben sat across from his counterpart, enjoying the Mr.smoothies of universe 23 they could both relax as Seven-seven and Tetrax had decided to stay on earth and work as a team with 23, so were out patrolling. "So, not that it's not awesome to see you from time to time..but usually you showing up means something about to go all fucky fucky...Sooo what brings you here?" 23 asked. "things don't ALWAYS go bad when i show up!" Ben protested, huffing a little. "Mmmhmmm..So you showed up and I get attacked by my future team mates..you show up and the Ben war..you show up and Mad Ben.." 23 said, counting off on his fingers. "..Damn uh.. well I promise, no world ending stuff this time." Ben said, sweat dropping. "I uh.. ok so i told you I recently moved out and got my own place right?" "And yet you haven't invited me back once." 23 said and blew a raspberry to show he wasn't really offended. "eheheh well fact of the matter is I mightttta gone a little beyond my means and kinda sorta..I'm like a week from getting kicked out." Ben said, poking his fingers together sheepishly. "Heh, and what, you want a place to crash?" "welll more thinking maybe since I've been helping you and all that jazz, you could spot me a couple of grand to get me in the clear and stuff?" Ben asked hopefully. "eh..I learned the hard way not to loan friends money Ben. it's why me and my Gwen aren't on speaking terms." 23 said, then took a big drink of his smoothie. "however, I AM willing to help you MAKE the money you need, and more." "...Doing what?" Ben asked, confused. "Cuz gotta say, I've tried the retail thing back home and when you have to stop doing stock to fight alien invaders, you don't keep your job for long." "Pffft as if I'd let you work retail! Nah man! You know I've leveraged my frame and endorsed a TON of things right? Part of how I'm rolling in dough? Well I got this one wanna be sponsor who I'm not big on the product, but they are offering a crazy amount of cash. I figure they'll settle for the Ben of anther universe, you do the gig, we split the money 50/50, and everybody wins." 23 said, taking out a note pad and a pen. "Look uh, not to sound ungrateful, but if I'm the one doing the modeling or whatever, shouldn't I get more then half? and what are you writing down?" Ben asked. "That's how much your half of the deal will be, and I think you'll find it more then fair." 23 said and smirked. Ben frowned and picked up the piece of paper, looking down, then did a double take as his eyes went wide. "Holy crap! what am i modeling off? Missiles?!" he asked, his voice going higher then normal. "nah, no weapons of mass destruction in that sense.. though bet you'll still clear rooms." 23 said and gave a impish grin. "You'll be working for huggies." "..Say what?"

After half a hour of back and forth, and Ben admitting he really didn't have a better option, the two took off, transforming into XCLER8 and Speedyquick instead of hailing a cab and made their way to the huggies headquarters. since 23 was used to this sort of thing Ben mostly let him talk over the contract and tried not to get boarded out of his mind as they talked returns and profit margins, only tuning in when the executive they were talking to (who if Ben didn't know better, he'd swear was this universes version of Charmcaster) brought up diaper usage. "Of course seeing your other self in our new line of Lil' stinkers would do wonders for our promotion of them, but if we could show them being used it would really help sell other points. we're taking photo shoots for magazine spreads and of course some tv and internet ad's. the more you and your client can promise us in terms of selling these diapers are for big babies who need to be put in their place, the more zero's we can add to your check." She said, smiling. "Wait..as in..you know.." Ben interrupted before 23 could talk, and unable to say what he was thinking, and blushing badly, he make fart noises with his mouth. "Heh, yes, we want you to go dooty in your diaper." Hope said, smirking and watching the two boys reactions. "N-No way! I mean I'll wear them and crawl around and stuff, but I'm NOT taking a dump in diapers!" Ben huffed and crossed his arms, shaking his head and well, looking just perfect for the target audience. "Maybe I should give you and your client a moment to talk this over. we can make a deal without the diaper usage but it's going to cut into the bottom line." Hope said and got up and left the room. "Can you BE anymore of a brat?" 23 hissed at Ben. "But..but..she wants me to-" "Yes, I know. I was there. Look Ben, I'm putting my neck on the line for you here, if my other sponsors hear about what a crabby brat your being here, it could affect me. Also your the one who came to me for help, so wouldn't like crapping yourself in huggies and making a boat load of cash once be better then doing a bunch more commercials to make the same amount? And who the hell from your universe is gonna see you doing this anyways?" 23 asked. "But I don't wanna poop in a diaper!" Ben whined and shook his head. "and you can't make me! so th-" he started to add, then suddenly he was yanked out of his chair and over 23's laps. "W-what are you doing?! and when the hell did you get so strong!?" "I've been working out since the mad Ben thing. and I'm gonna do what anyone does with a whinny brat.." 23 said and smirked, tugging down the back of Ben's pants. "I'm gonna spank you." Yanking Ben's skid marked stained briefs up and giving the bigger boy a wedgie and exposing those cheeks, 23 paused. "Last chance to be a good boy and let me handle this." he said. "Y-You don't have the balls!" Ben cried out, his voice carrying. "I gave you a chance." 23 said and shrugged, then brought down his hand on Ben's bubble butt over and over, turning the cheeks nice and red as Ben bawled like a baby.

Since the office wasn't sound proofed, and many people knew that both of the Ben's were in the office, it attracted A LOT of attention as the bigger Ben's voice filled the floor with the sounds of wails and there was the unmistakable sound of buns being tanned. Hope smirked as she listened, feeling she had pegged the relationship between the two boys right, and waited till there was just the sound of the bigger Ben sobbing before going back into her office, and fighting back a chuckle as she saw the bigger boy in the corner, his pants in his chair and his undies still hiked up. the boy had his nose to the corner and his hands on his head, and was whimpering and sobbing gently. "I'm sorry for that, somebody needed a attuide adjustment." 23 said. "oh don't be! I just wish we had recorded that! would of been perfect for the set up of a commercial!" Hope said and chuckled. "well I can always spank him again." 23 offered, chuckling to as Ben whined loudly from the corner. "So, may I assume that your both on board with widdle Benny making uh-ohs and tinkles in his diapers?" Hope asked. "I dunno, Ben, are you ok with messing your diapers?" 23 asked. "Y-Yes! No more spankies!" Ben cried out, his hands going from his head to covering his poor buns. "i think that answers your question." "excellent, then I'll draw up the contract, and if we hurry we can have Ben in the studio in about 2 hours. Make sure he gets LOTS to eat, we wanna show off how the Lil' stinkers hold up to even the biggest messes." Hope said. as 23 and Hope chuckled, Ben whimpered and found himself sucking on his thumb having ALL the regrets.

a hour and half later and a semi pot belly Ben was leaning back in his folding chair, in front of the set and belching off and on. He still hadn't been able to reclaim his pants though he'd been allowed to tug the wedgie out at least, though this just got loads of comments about how diapers might be a good full time choice for him. Ben had swallowed back any come backs or threats he had in mind as every time 23 was quick to pat his still sore booty. going on Hope's advice 23 had forced Ben to chow down, though while the catering table was set up with all sorts of awesome snack foods, including Ben's favorite, chilli fries, it was the large pyramid of at least 23 jar's of prune baby food that 23 had directed Ben to, helping the bigger boy and spoon feeding him as the crew setting up the large nursery chuckled. "Come on ben, one jar to go. you can do it." 23 was saying, grabbing the last jar and smirking at Ben's baby food covered face. "D-Dude..I'm not joking..if I eat one more bite I'ma hurl." Ben whined. "that's what you said two jars ago." "by all means, call my bluff, just when your wearing baby food on your shoes, remember i warned you." Ben said with a weak smile then a LOUD and nasty belch. 23 made a face and waved the air in front of him. "Man, if it smells that bad now.. Maybe i should excuse myself to the other room when you crap yourself." he teased. "N-no way..if I'm doing this..you're watching AND smelling!" Ben whined and Belched again. "Can i get something to drink?" he asked. instantly he realized he should of worded his request better as 23 got a large baby bottle filled with what was hopefully milk, and popped it in Ben's mouth. it only took a few sucks on the nipple to realize that of course, it was formula, and Ben scuched up his face. "Hehehe I have to say Ben, you are JUST too cute like this. I might have to try and lock you into a long term agreement here." 23 teased then winced at the glare Ben gave him. "Kidding! Kidding!" pushing the bottle out of his mouth, Ben went to say something but was cut off as Hope strolled onto the set. "Ok people, time to make some magic. baby Ben, we need you in wardore." she said then pasued. "Oh, Do you know how to put a diaper on?" she asked, suddenly looking sheepish. "N-No." ben whined and a loud toot came out his bottom. "Oh er..I don't think we have time to teach you before you unload." Hope said, holding her nose. "it's ok, I'll diaper the big baby." 23 said happily. "of course you will." Ben muttered, but let himself be lead off to a side room where there was star on the door, with his name on it. "great...I'm about to become famous as a diaper boy.." Ben whined. lead inside 23 just chuckled. "Mr.Devil, he's ready for his close up."

The diaper was MASSIVE, and for a second both boys just stared at it, wondering if Ben was gonna be able to even walk in the thing. it was easily the equal to 10 normal diapers layered together and was a soft baby blue (whether that was a marketing choice or just when they had been making these things expect 23 to model them, neither boy was sure) anther loud toot from Ben's back door which sadly filled the small dressing room had both boys holding their noses, and broke them out of their trance. "I..I don't wanna do this. I'm scared." Ben whined, looking at 23 with pleading eyes and starting to squirm in a way that told him their deadline was coming up fast. "Sorry buddy, we signed the contract. but I'll make sure this goes as fast as possible. all you have to do with whimper and cry, and act like you've been acting, and I'll be doing the voice over." 23 said and reached up, patting Ben's head. Ben whined but let himself be laid down on the teddy bear print changing mat on the floor and just lifted his arms to let 23 tug his shirt off. "we're gonna have to enroll you in a exercise program if we need to keep feeding you like this." 23 teased, noting that while Ben wasn't chubby, he had enough pudge on him to look a bit like baby fat, and the baby food in his tummy wasn't helping. Sliding Ben's undies off 23 tossed them in a trash can behind him, then unfolded the massive diaper as Ben whined. "W-why'd you toss out my undies? A-and were are my pants? F-For after?" he asked, feeling so small and helpless as 23 lifted Ben up but his legs to get the diaper under him. "hush, you let me worry about that..though..heh.." 23 paused the look down at Ben's exposed crotch. "Didn't know you shave." "I uh..haven't gotten my pubes yet.." the bigger in so many ways, but not where it counted boy said. "well that explains your cute widdl-" "Watch it!" Ben huffed and for the first time moved to use his Omimatrix. "Ok ok..Sorry." 23 said sweat dropping. "I've had THREE girls interested in me by the way, so it can't be THAT small!" Ben added and 23 smirked and powdered him lots. "And how many of them saw you down there?" 23 asked, as he tugged the diaper up. "and of those that saw, how many stayed interested?" with the diaper tapped up Ben sat up with a bit of effort, but was blushing and wouldn't look 23 in the eyes. "L-Let's just get this over with." Ben huffed and tried to get up on his own, only to keep falling back on his puffy butt. "That's what I thought." 23 chuckled and then held out his hands, Helping Ben get to his feet. the bigger boys BIG diaper had his legs spread and Ben was barley able to waddle, several times needing to stop and take 23's hands as they made their way out onto the set. 'If i make it though this I'm moving to a smaller apartment so i never have to ask this son of a bitch for a favor again.' Ben thought.

Hope grinned ear to ear and had some of the photographers snap shots of Ben needing help with walking, before coming over with a baby blue bonnet and bib that had white text in comic sans, that read BRAT. Ben would of argued about the add ons, since he was pretty sure that hadn't been in the original deal, if it wasn't for the fact he was using every ounce of control NOT to mess himself too soon and have to start all over. "There we go, don't you just look adorable~" Hope teased and tickled Ben's chin. "A-Ah.S-Stop that..w-we hafa hurry up..I..I can't.." Ben whined and rubbed his tummy, a muffled fart coming out and making hope take a step back. As they started to film, Ben for the most part blissfully blacked out, but of course got to watch the commercial after, with everyone praising him on what a good boy he had been.

"Hey everyone, Ben 23 here, and bringing you yet anther great product. So, brats, we all know one and we've all thought about putting them in their place, but where do you even start to get what you need for it?" Came 23's voice, on a screen of black. "Well the answer for that, Is huggies. That's right, the same company you've been trusting to look after your little bundles of joy is here to help you put those same bundles of joy turned into over sized brats back into little baby's." the screen came into focus and there was Ben, a glazed look in his eyes and holding his tummy, in all his big baby glory. "Most of you know about my other universe counterpart, but what you don't know is that he's a grade A BRAT. as a favor to his friends back in his verse, we're giving Baby Ben the punishment he deserves. isn't that right baby ben?" 23's voice asked as Ben whined and pouted. "Pwease, no wanna go poopies! I'm sowwy!" Ben cried out. "now now Ben, you don't want anther spanking do you?" 23's voice asked, and it was the yelp of fear that sold it as Ben totally lost control. the camera zoomed in as the back of Ben's diaper rapidly started to expand, and loud gross farts were heard. Ben for his part was face down ass up, and pounding a fist on the floor as he filled his diapers, crying and howling but really, it only made the shot better. "Lil stinkers is made with a new material that allows for up to 40 times the normal amounts of waste, which means even with 22 jars of baby food in baby Ben's tummy these diapers won't leak, or your money back." 23 said. the diaper only started to take on a dirty stain of brown in the back as the material reached down to Ben's knees. "with our new smell block guards in the diaper, you'll only get the faintest whiff of the the mess the big babies made. Sure it spares the brat but if your brat is anything widdle Benny here, you're gonna be punished enough changing him." with a few last sputtering farts Ben was apparently finished and sucking on his thumb as he got up on his knees, looking to the cameras. "C-Change pwease?" Ben whined. "Oh silly Ben, if we just changed you right away, where would the fun be in that? with added rash protection built into the diaper, along with bratty baby brand powder, Our little Benny can go 12 hours without a change!" hearing that Ben bawled again, both hands coming up to his eyes and there was just no two ways about it, he looked like a giant baby. "See you in 12 hours little guy! enjoy your poopie diaper." 23 said cheerfully. Ben's cries were muted as they went to the last of it. "Lil stinkers by huggies. put your brat back in diapers, and in their place. Available at a super market near you in two weeks."

Ben naturally wasn't actually kept in the poopie diaper for 12 hours, though they did take the chance to get all the pictures they needed for him in his poopie diapers, with 23 posing in some of them with him. Such as having Ben in his arms, Ben over his lap and pretending to give him a messy spanking, and of course 23 pulling the back of the diaper open as Ben sat on his ass, hugging a teddy bear and sucking on a pacifier and 23 holding his nose. If 23 was being truthfully though he was glad he was wearing his baggy pants as the site of Ben like this almost had little hearts in his eyes and he was tempted to try and keep Ben like this. Still a contract was a contract, and once they had enough footage they got Ben changed into a clean diaper but out of the bib and bonnet, and with his t-shirt back on. Ben was actually in the crib that was part of the set up when he came out of it, the staff and Hope and 23 where having a few drinks. "C-Can somebody come let me out? And.. get me big boy undies and pants?" Ben called, using the crib railing to haul himself to his feet but swaying dangerously if he let go, so knowing he couldn't get out. if the crew heard him, they ignored him and kept talking among themselves and laughing, annoying Ben. "I SAID, SOMEBODY LET ME OUT!" Ben yelled and stomped a foot, slipping and falling on his padded rear. "oh great, the baby is awake." 23 said, smirking and winking to the crew who all laughed. "Your not freaking funny! Let me outta here NOW or I'm going way big!" Ben growled and started to fiddle with his watch. "Way big?" a crew member asked. "as in he's gonna be a big boy?" "No! as in the alien who's 100 feet tall!" Ben huffed and got the watch ready to go. "-sigh- I'll handle this." 23 said and walked over, holding his hands up. "heyy heyy..it's OK Benny. we don't need to bring aliens into this. you're all done here and we'll cash your check at the first bank of Ben then you can go home. OK?" "i want outta this diaper, I want outta this crib! and i want big boy undies and pants!" Ben huffed, keeping his hand over his watch. "heh, your terms are agreeable. we only re-diapered you because you were out of it, and I don't really wanna change anther poopie diaper." 23 lied. He would of totally loved to keep changing Ben's diapers but clearly the little guy had been pushed to his limit.

As it turned out they couldn't find pants in the studio for Ben, or a pair of undies so the poor hero ended up standing in line with 23 at the bank in his t-shirt and diapers, which normally would of caused problems but with 23's technically owning the bank, it was brushed over. The first thing they did after getting the check cashed was go shopping and get Ben a pair of sumo slammer boxers, then off to the food court for him to get the taste of the baby food and formula out of his system, though he wasn't able to eat his full order. 23 joked about how they should of gotten him a happy meal as he wiped up the chilli stains off of Ben's face. after that it was time to go home and Ben gave 23's hand a shake. "..ok, you saved my ass from having to move back home..buttt don't expect me to come back here till this ad campaign is over and done." Ben said. "heh, come on, didn't a SMALL part of you have fun?" 23 asked. "hahahaha NO. Today was the most horrible day of my life, and with the shit I've been though, thats saying something. Maybe you can come over to MY universe sometime and be a diaper boy for me though." "heh. or just show up with a diaper bag." "..Shutting up." with that Ben went back to his home universe, very much richer. Or so he thought.

as it turned out their money while looking the same on the outside, was made differently and raised all sorts of flags when Ben went to go and deposit it in his universe. there was a public cry of outrage that a hero like Ben would try and destabilize a local economy like that, and there was talks of official charges of counterfeiting and maybe even jail time. Not even able to get his cash back, and the Plumbers having to give him the cold shoulder publicly to save face, Ben decided to take a little bit of a vacation (2-7 months while the plumbers legal team got him out of the mess) back in universe 23, figuring that 23 owned him, AND wanting to give him a piece of his mind.

"baby Ben! back so soon?" 23 asked, delighted as a red faced Ben made it to his pent house. on the way over Ben had been recognized, teased and scolded for not being in his diapers and had seen billboard with him in all his blacked out diaper baby glory. "ha.Ha. we have a problem." Ben said, and then nodded to 23's couch. "mind if I take a seat?" "Only if you promise not to make a puddle." 23 joked, but moved aside as Ben came in and flopped down. Ben spent the next 10 minutes explaining out what had happened, as 23 looked upset and shook his head. "Man, that sucks. I'm sorry, i didn't know!" 23 said. "well, I need a place to stay for a little while till i get the OK to go back..so I was wondering if y-" "would put you up here for a few months, heh,. that can be arranged. don't think you'll be able to get a place on your own here unless you just did more commercials though, rent in the city has gone up since i live here." "Not like i have a penny to my name anyways, and was gonna ask if you'd rent me a place..Buttt staying here I guess won't be so bad." Ben said with a little smile. "there is a small price I'd like you to pay..But in return for humoring me on this onnnne tiny little thing, I swear you'll want for nothing while staying with me. all the junk food you could want and any video games, the whole nine yards." 23 said, blushing a little now. "..why am i getting a bad feeling about this?" Ben asked. "well see.. they didn't need the stuff they used in your commercial after you left..so they gave it to me for free..and you were just SO god damn cute.." 23 said, getting up and leading Ben to yup, a recreation of the nursery from the set. "FUCK NO!" "oh come on Ben! i promise! no baby food this time and pop in your baby bottles! Pleasssse?" 23 asked, bringing his hands together. "why in the world would i agree to do that for a few months? I could just go do anther commercial, then get my own place here!?" Ben pointed out. "one, because as your agent I control whether you do anther shoot, it's actually part of the contract, two, if I tell my bank not to cash your check who else do you think will cover that much. three, and this is the kicker. where else can you go to with ease to hide out? you really think mad Ben is gonna welcome you with open arms?" "..Fuck my life!"

And so one week after promising himself he'd never be a big baby again, Ben found himself in two of the thick blue diaper's and in a t-shirt top, crawling behind behind 23 and pouting like crazy. "Don't you think top is over kill?" Ben whined. "I'm the one paying for them. so just shush and look adorable." "Not funny." Ben pouted and then realized it would be harder then hell to get off and on the couch's and just sat on his diaper butt in the living room. "So what d-" "I want chilli cheese fires, I want a two liter of coke, and I want the latest sumo slammer game five minutes ago!" Ben huffed then grinned. "..Demanding aren't we?" "and i quote: I swear you'll want for nothing. I want all of that." Ben said smugly. "you know, i could of just spanked you." 23 teased, going to grab the phone and make the food order. instead of Ben telling him off however, the threat had a amusing and smelly effect instead. Ben froze at the memory of that and then well, with him being double diapered it was a little hard to tell since there was no smell, but 23 could of sworn Ben just got a little taller. "heh, Did somebody just make me a present?" "NO!...yes." "Good boy. I'll change you after you eat, if your a good boy." 23 said and winked. "...this is gonna be a long 2 months."

the end?

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crimsonrae · 4 years ago

Text

Bear and Birdie

Chapter Seven

Summary: AU Howard only ever had Birdie to confide in as a child and Steve only ever had Bucky. So, what happens when more than just a supersoldier serum connects these people? Told in a collection of one-shots and flashbacks, rating subject to change.

Bucky BarnesxOFC

Rating: Mature

Chapter Seven

1923 Kingston, New York

Magic

Elena stared with wide blue eyes as she watched her father uncurl his palm. The quarter he had been twirling through his fingers was gone. She gasped in surprise making Samuel hardpress to contain his chuckle. He had done these tricks for Fergus once upon a time, but his eldest had long since lost any interest in his father's silly magic tricks.

His five-year-old, however. Samuel grinned as Elena snatched his hand to look it over. Her sharp little eyes were looking for the lie – trying to understand where he had made the coin go. He made the coin reappear again as she turn his palm over and chuckled at her stymied expression. His smart little girl.

"Again daddy." Elena demanded as she slipped the coin from between his fingers. She looked at the little piece of silver as if it held all the answers in the world. Maybe it did.

Samuel smiled amusedly as he reached down to wrap an arm around his little girl and place her on his lap. She curled into his side almost immediately as she looked up him pointedly. He raised a sardonic brow, "Again? Pigeon, I've done this four times already. Aren't you getting tired of it?"

"No. Again, show me." Elena demand again with a slight pout. This time it was Samuel's turn to giver her a pointed look. She huffed as she continued, "Pleasee. Please, daddy."

Samuel sighed at his princess and gently snatched the quarter from her small fingers. He tapped her nose, "One more time, Pigeon. Then it's bedtime for you."

"But!"

"No buts little girl." Samuel said sternly. He was more aware than most that the blue-eyed pixie on his lap had him wrapped around her little finger, but he knew better than to let Elena have her way with everything... even as she pouted up at him. He sighed tiredly and held up the coin in an effective distraction from his bedtime decree, "Alright, pay attention."

Elena nodded seriously as she watched the quarter spin through her father's fingers again. He hoped that fascination never left her eyes.

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1937 Brooklyn, New York

"I thought penguins lived in Antarctica."

Bucky rolled his eyes as he adjusted his bowtie. Admittedly, he did feel a little ridiculous dressed in the monkey suit he had been given for work. His usual slacks and button down had been traded for fine black woolen pants and a cotton shirt so white he thought it would blind someone. Luckily, his tie and vest detracted from the startling sheen, "Yuck it up, Stevie. At least I have a decent paying job for once."

"I give you an hour before you deck someone." Steve drawled as he watched Bucky finish getting ready. He wasn't quite sure how his best friend had landed a job as a server for some hoighty toighty event, but he knew Bucky would be gritting his teeth all night. Steve remembered all to clearly the one time Bucky had spent the day with him on Columbia's campus. The day had gone well for the most part, but not even Steve could keep Bucky from hearing the snide comments some of the more wealthy students made about the scholarship kid in class. And Bucky said he had a short fuse?

"Your faith in me is astonishing." Bucky retorted as he smoothed his hair back, wincing as he caught sight of the healing scar on his forehead. He was thankful that it was summer and the slight tan he had developed from working outside had minimized the obviousness of the pink tissue. He would have to be more careful when he chose his boxing matches in the future. It didn't matter that the purse had been good or that he had lost in the end - he had been out of commission for a few days as he allowed his ribs and hands to heal from fighting the Goliath himself, "Besides it's not like I have time to stand around and listen to anyone gab. I'll be too busy running around with trays and glasses."

"Mmm." Steve hummed in faint disbelief before he slumped onto Bucky's bed, "Don't break a rib again. It's been nice not having to listen to you whine about sitting, standing... you know breathing."

"Stevie, I'm not gonna get in a fight." Bucky murmured exasperated before he caught the mischievous twinkle in his best friend's eye, "Punk."

"Jerk." Steve replied automatically with a shrug, "Last time you said that you ended up at Mac's and came back looking like a punching bag."

"I was a punching bag." Bucky muttered under his breath before a small smile twitched at the corners of his lips. It had been worth it though, as he remembered the grudgingly concerned ocean blue eyes that had belonged to his guardian angel. The delicious blush that had spread across her cheeks when her teasing directness suddenly turned to unexpected shyness.

"Uh huh." Steve smiled knowingly as he watched a familiar spark enter his friend's gaze. He had been trying to get details of the mystery boxing girl out of Bucky for weeks, but he was being unusually quiet about the girl, "You ever gonna tell me about this dame?"

Bucky quirked a brow at Steve as he shrugged, "There's nothing to tell, Stevie. She got me a rag from the bar and bitched me out about fighting a guy twice my size. Nothing happened."

"Yeah, cuz that's why you smile whenever you think about her." Stevie returned drolly, not believing a word Bucky said. Something had happened, "You don't even smile like that over Mitsy Collins and she's been running you in circles for weeks."

Bucky held in a sigh as he thought about the small redhead down the block. Mitsy had been ignoring his attentions for awhile now, but she did it in a way that said she was unwillingly interested, "Ah Mitsy..."

Steve snorted at the disgruntle look and wistful tone with a shake of his head, "You're hopeless."

"Says you." Bucky said as he grabbed his wallet and coat. Where had he put his keys?

"Where is this party anyway?"

"Manhattan. Some ritzy duplex or something." He answered as he caught sight of his keys on the dresser, "I need to get out of here if I don't want to be late. You gonna be up when I get back? We can go grab drinks or go to Johnny's meet a few girls?"

Steve rolled his eyes, neither option sounding particularly appealing to him, "I have to study."

"Study? Stevie, it's Friday night – go and do something fun for a change." Bucky urged as he tried to get his surrogate brother to leave his hermit ways.

"Studying is fun."

"For who? A monk."

"Well a monastery would be more peaceful than living with you."

"Oh real nice. See if I get you a date again." Bucky sniffed in mock offence.

Steve grinned knowingly, "You will just to annoy me."

"Ain't that the truth. See you later Brother Steve." Bucky called as he headed for the door, grinning as he heard Steve's muttered oath. Yeah, that nickname wasn't going away anytime soon.

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Manhattan

Elena bit back a sigh as she stared over the gleaming wooden balcony of the Lansington's Ballroom. The crystal chandelier obscured her from view of those down below as she watched the colorful patchwork of expensive dresses and jewelry shimmering in the low lamp light, accented in stark contrast by the black and grey suits the men wore and glinting silver of the waitstaff trays.

She didn't want to go down there.

As beautiful as the room was, as beautiful as the people looked – it was all such a lie. A beautiful, beautiful lie. She swirled her champagne, tempted to down the entire flute.

"I hope you don't plan on drinking all of that." Elena glanced up to see Howard strolling toward her. She frowned faintly, not sure how she had missed her cousin's arrival, "You'd have to leave your hiding place to get more after all."

"How'd you know I was up here?" Elena asked quietly as Howard joined her in viewing the masses.

He smirked and gave her a pointed look, "An engagement party for Lucille Lansington and George McAllister which has your mother in attendance and who is more than likely waiting for the opportune moment to berate you for not snatching Georgie boy for yourself... The odds were in my favor that you would be hiding up here."

"I'm not hiding." Elena grumbled as she sipped at her champagne. More than aware her cousin was right – she would have to leave if she finished off the glass, "Don't suppose you brought a bottle with you?"

"Sorry, I had a hard enough time sneaking away from your mother's watchful eye." Howard cringed as he remembered his aunt's heavy gaze, "Swear, Aunt Vitoria could make the devil pause."

Elena snickered quietly, "How long do you think I can get away with being up here?"

"Not long. Lucille's the type to notice an absence – not to mention that Uncle Leo's here and wants to speak with you." Howard murmured as he watched his cousin's shoulder's slump with disappointment. He knew better than anyone that she had hoped her departure from Kingston, from her mother would mean the end to this part of her life. Life had its own plans for his cousin, "Brennan's here too, by the way."

Elena groaned and pressed the flute glass to her forehead. Sometimes she was sure the world conspired against her. Her mother and the man that wanted to marry her all in the same building, "Does he know I'm here?"

"He knows your mother is." Howard stated wryly as he tried to suppress a smile at Elena's suddenly horrified expression. The last thing in the world she needed was for her mother to meet Brennan.

"I'll give you a thousand dollars to kill me." Elena whispered desperately as Howard wrapped a hand around her arm to guide her downstairs.

"Ha, you'd have to pay me a few million to make that happen. Besides you will not leave me with Vitoria. I forbid it." Howard whispered back as they descended the stairs, "The quicker we get down there, the quicker we can leave right?"

"If only." Elena grunted.

As soon as their feet hit the floor it was like a curtain had dropped. Elena's face went blank as she raised an indifferent brow and a benign smile. Howard smirked smugly and stuffed his hands into his pockets. The two cousins spared each other a quick glance before they departed in opposite directions. Mingling was now the name of the game – Elena could only hope that she'd manage not to run into her mother or Brennan.

She didn't notice when a certain server caught sight of her gliding across the ballroom or how his eyes widen in surprise when he took in her soft satin grey gown. She looked like a million dollars to him – he could hardly believe he was looking at the same woman he had met weeks ago.

Elena for her part was oblivious to much in the room as she counted the seconds by in her head. She smiled when appropriate, made conversation when needed. She even danced abit, but then her dance partner was her uncle and he could always coax her into doing things she didn't desire to.

"Now, where is my favorite niece's smile." Leonard Turner asked as he spun her around, "It's a party, my dear duckling. You should be enjoying yourself."

Elena gave him a pointed look as she followed his movements, "I'm your only niece, Uncle. And a duck can only enjoy so much when she's in a room of sharks."

Leo chuckled as he realized that Elena was looking at her mother, "You have never been one to be seen as food for the scourge, my dear. Though I take it your mother has been playing matchmaker again."

Elena shrugged, "I wouldn't know. The last time I spoke with mother she accosted me at Pierre's to inform me of this party and of my poor life choices. She also tried to get me to give her five-thousand dollars, but refused to tell me why she needed it."

Leonard frowned at that last bit of information as he tried to hold in a tired sigh. He would never understand what his brother had seen in that shrew of a woman, "Fergus is to be ousted from the family company soon. I believe that Vitoria has caught on to this fact."

Elena nearly froze in place as she looked up at Leo in surprise. Suddenly, everything regarding her mother's sudden reappearance in her life made sense. She was going to be ill, "What?"

"Your brother's been gambling again and not with his own money this time." Leo explained dourily. Seeing his niece's weary acceptance of that statement somehow made everything that much worse.

"I thought his wife had cured him of that particular habit."

"Apparently not – or it might be the fact that Liza has cast him and your mother from the house. According to Liza, Fergus has been keeping a lady in Jersey." The dull way in which Leo delivered that news let Elena know that he was ready to wash his hands of his nephew.

Elena couldn't help, but chuckle at the latest sordid turn the Turner household had taken, "You know uncle, now would be a perfect time to settle down, produce some heirs. Maybe then this family will have a chance at existing into the next decade, let alone the rest of the century."

Leo snorted, slightly affronted, "You have a cruel sense of humor, Ducks."

"Don't I ever." Elena murmured as the duo finished their dance, "I should fill in Howard."

Leo nodded in understanding as he passed her another glass of champagne, "Do that. Your mother is at you ten, Ducks. Good luck."

Elena didn't even glance to her left as she disappeared from her uncle's side. Despite his warning about Vitoria Turner, Leo did not know about Brennan and too late did Elena notice him in her path. Her eyes widen as she caught sight of him looking at her and like a scared rabbit she veared to her left and attempted to put as many people between them as possible. She felt panic blossom in her stomach as she tried to find a good hiding spot and silently cursed her cousin for making her come downstairs. Elena wouldn't normally call herself a coward, but when it came to overly persistent Frenchmen she couldn't run fast enough it seemed.

She turned down a random corridor of the Lansington home as she heard footsteps quickening behind her. She quietly cursed as she searched for a door or even a damn window to dive through. She didn't make it far before she felt a hand grip her wrist and tug her into an empty room. Elena yelped in surprise and turned, fully prepared to give Brennan a piece of her mind. Her mouth snapped shut, however, as her gaze met a familiar pair of steely-blues. She couldn't help, but stare in astonishment as Bucky quickly snapped the door shut behind him. He held a finger up to his mouth to hold off any comments she wanted to make. A few minutes later they could hear steps echoing down the hall they had just left.

"Well, well maybe it's you who's my guardian angel." Elena whispered softly as she heard the footsteps depart from the hall.

Bucky smirked as he leaned back against the door, "Yeah well you looked like you needed some help."

Elena nodded slightly as she tried to formulate words. It wasn't often she was at a loss, but she honestly never thought she would see her boxer again, "Not playing at being James J. Braddock tonight?"

Bucky's eyes glinted with humor as he shook his head, "Fraid not, sweetheart."

"Mmm, I'm not your sweetheart." Elena corrected with a tilt of her head and a sly smile. She finally overcame her shock enough to fully take him in – it registered distantly that he was working with the wait staff tonight, but damn did he look good, "You clean up well. The lack of blood does wonders."

"I didn't think you minded the blood, doll." He cracked a smile as Elena scrunched her nose at the pet name, "While I took you for a well-to-do type, I didn't realize just how well-to-do you are. You look beautiful by the way."

"Thank you." Elena murmured graciously. She felt a faint blush spreading up her neck, she couldn't stop staring, "Did you get my card?"

Bucky paused as he snatched his wallet from his back pocket. She watched curiously as he slipped out her paper card, "Elena Marie Turner." His eyes flicked up to hers, "You don't look like an Elena."

Elena huffed a small laugh as she eyed him almost incredulously, "You kept it."

Bucky shrugged feeling a little chagrined, "Seemed like the thing to do."

"But you didn't come find me?" Elena asked curiously as she stepped into his space. They were doing a strange dance and she didn't quite know what she was doing anymore. His presence made everything strangely blank... peaceful...better. It shouldn't, she didn't know him.

"Was I supposed to?" Bucky asked teasingly as he smiled winningly at her.

"It's called a calling card for a reason." Elena countered amusedly before she stepped away. She need to clear her head. She felt almost dizzy with... something. For the first time she looked around and noted the room they were in was almost completely empty of furniture. There was a desk and little else.

Bucky seemed to notice her sudden distraction as he followed her gaze, "Most of the rooms in this place are like this. If it weren't for the gathering in the ballroom I would think this place was deserted."

Elena raised an amused brow, "Been snooping have you?"

"Apparently, people like me are only to be seen when necessary. I've only just found a few routes to...disappear." Bucky said almost bitterly as he stepped up behind her.

Elena closed her eyes at that statement. She really did hate the world she lived in – the empty room only proved the truth of her earlier thoughts. It was all just a beautiful lie, "How'd you know I wanted to hide?"

"Saw you come down the stairs earlier and then I saw this joker shadow your every step." Bucky stepped in front of her to lean against the desk. He looked at her speculatively, "You seemed intent on staying away from him. Thought I'd help."

"And I'm most grateful." Elena murmured, "You were watching me?"

"Mmmhmm."

"How did I miss you?" She whispered.

Bucky smiled faintly, uncertain why that quiet question pleased him, "You seemed intent on avoiding your fella and that witch of a woman in the blue dress. Just about dumped my tray on that woman."

Blue dress? Elena blinked before she realized who he was talking about, "I wished you had."

"I can still do that." Bucky murmured, more than willing to shake up the bash outside.

"No." Elena shook her head as she found herself leaning on the desk next to him, "No, I wouldn't want you to lose your job. I prefer this to you being beat to a pulp."

"Why's that, doll?" Bucky felt like he was flirting with danger when Elena looked up at him with her big blue eyes. She could make a man melt under that gaze.

"Just do." Elena murmured quietly, "I like you. Not so much the pet names, but I like you."

It was strange how that small admission felt like she had just given everything away. Elena felt her blush intensify for a moment and she had to fight not to look away from him. She didn't know what was wrong with her. She hadn't acted like this since her first crush when she was thirteen. It was ridiculous.

"Good." Bucky smiled smugly, "I like you too, Ellie."

"Ellie?"

"You look like an Ellie." He said softly, intrigued as she continued to stare at him. He felt as odd as she did. As if he was standing on one leg and was waiting for it to collapse.

And it did.

His eyes widen briefly in surprise when Elena suddenly grabbed the front of his shirt to pull him down into a kiss. Usually, he was the one to initiate anything like this, but he wasn't about to complain. Unthinkingly, his hands found her waist as he pulled her between his legs. Her fingers fluttered up to latch onto the small hairs at the back of his neck, sending chills down his spine. He nipped lightly at her lip and at her gasp of surprise he deepened the kiss. Gently guiding his tongue over hers, silently relishing in the taste of champagne that lingered.

All too soon she was breaking away. Her right hand still clenching at his shirt, but more to keep the distance. He smiled at her flushed cheeks and the heat in her eyes, "You're full of surprises."

"We should get back." Elena said smoothly, but not making a move to leave.

He raised a brow at her, "I don't know about that."

Elena chuckled lightly and finally pushed herself to stand away from him, "I do. We should go back and you should find me later."

Bucky paused as he studied her. He licked his lips and nodded, "I can do that...I can do that."

"Okay." Elena whispered as she moved for the door. She looked back at him as she bit her lip, "Later?"

Bucky smiled, wishing later was now, "Later."

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#bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #captain america #captain america fanfiction #sebastian stan #fanfiction #fanfic

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betsydobsons · 5 years ago

Text

soft andreil

There are days that go by when nothing really happens. They are quiet, calm and are unnoticed by the masses, because nothing really happening is a common occurrence for most. But Neil Josten has not had many of these quiet, nothing-to-worry about, nothing-to-do days. So when it does happen, even sparratically, he notices it. The day is usually a weekend day, when Kevin is too hungover to practise with him. And the bed is too soft to leave to go on his morning run. And Andrew is there.

Andrew is always there on these days. He radiates heat and safety, with just a hint of vanilla (probably from baking earlier in the week with Nicky) (yeah, they do that now) (Andrew doesn’t acknowledge it though).

These days are only either at the Colombia house, or in the dorms. The pair will rise late morning, hair mussed and bodies languidly stretching on their way to search for coffee. They will hold steaming mugs in clutched hands, either on the bean bags or on the roof, depending on the weather. If they are in the bean bags, they will stay there for hours, dozing, reading, maybe talking. If they are on the roof, they are watching, observing, listening to each other. Learning all there is to learn about each other.

The muted sounds of traffic would drift in from a window, and the south carolinian heat would be filtered away by an AC. It was a sense of peace neither of them felt before they met, and one neither of them thought they would be able to find with another person. It was a sense of safety, comfort and belonging rolled into one.

Maybe one of them would be motivated enough - or hungry enough- to cook some pasta and sauce, but most of the time it was Neil eating various fruits - mango was his current favourite - and Andrew digging into his freezer stash. This fitted their day perfectly. Leaving Kevin still snoozing off his hang over in a different room, maybe stumbling through to grunt at their food choices and fix himself some eggs. Not a smoothie, ‘for fucks sake that’s too loud Kevin!’, and then he would slouch back into his room, sleep his clear intention.

The days colours will bleed and blend slowly, but whether it is with a soft patter of rain, or with the dusty rays of sunlight, Neil and Andrew will keep themselves close to each other, a tandem that worked like an oiled bike chain, with an unspoken rhythm.

When the air grows colder with night, they would gravitate impossibly closer to one another, the soft touches and hardly spoken “yes” muttered between them, setting a scene of exploration and longing. A hint of joy, of being allowed these days, of having them and keeping them. Of being together, when before they had both thought the unspoken feelings between them unattainable. It was normal, it was glorious, and it was noticed to those who were not part of the masses.

#aftg #all for the game #creations #andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #Kevin day #the foxhole court

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between-two-fandoms · 4 years ago

Note

Maybe a Reggie x Luke x Alex (does they have a name?? I don't think..) in 1995 who cuddle Reggie because he's just a beautiful baby who deserves a bit of love?

Notes: I hope you enjoy this one! It ended up being super fluffy because yes, Reggie is indeed a beautiful baby boi who deserves all the love.

Also available on ao3.

The high from their performance was starting to wear off and Reggie suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion crash through him as the band entered the studio. They spent longer than usual at the club after they played, Luke wanted to start networking Sunset Curve’s music more and a few agency reps happened to be in the area. Luke’s recent pushing for them to play more often at different clubs every night was starting to take its toll on Reggie and he knew it. Normally Reggie would be all for pushing their sound to the masses, but his parents had been fighting more often than not recently and last night he was only able to get around three hours of sleep.

To say he was exhausted was sugar coating it.

Once they finally left the venue Reggie trailed behind Alex and Luke as they led the way back to their studio garage. Their mindless conversation helped Reggie stay awake as he stumbled along the sidewalk behind them, bass strapped to his back. When they finally returned to their garage Reggie ignored his friend’s concerned looks as he made a beeline straight for Luke’s couch after he returned his beloved instrument to it’s stand. “Anyone else feel like they’re about to pass out?” He asked as his vision started to get filled with little black dots. Reggie’s back fell against the couch as he pulled his flannel on backwards to use it as a makeshift blanket. Luke was at his side in an instant, Alex hovering nearby in case he was needed.

“Reggie, are you okay?” Luke asked, wrapping an arm around him. Reggie relaxed into his touch, and Luke’s smile immediately made him feel better. A wave of anxiety started to itch up his spine as he shuddered, his father’s voice haunting his mind.

“Fine,” Reggie said as he tiredly ran a hand through his hair, “just tired.” A look of guilt crossed Luke’s face,

“I’m sorry. I’ve been pushing us too hard lately. We can cancel the gig for next week so you can rest up.” Luke stifled a yawn, and Alex pulled a blanket over them, joining them on the couch.

“He’s not the only one who needs to rest up Luke,” Alex pointed out as the three of them curled into each other, limbs a tangled mess on the too-small couch. Luke reached up and started to run his guitar-calloused hands through Reggie’s hair. Reggie hummed to himself as he let himself get wrapped up in the warmth and support of his friends. They were more than just friends at this point. If he was being completely honest with himself, Alex and Luke were quickly becoming his family more than his parents ever hoped to be.

“How bad are your parents getting?” Luke asked suddenly, pausing his hair-petting motion. Reggie grumbled unintelligible complaints and tried to get Luke to go back to running his hand through his hair. Alex took up the task and Reggie burrowed his face into the drummer’s chest in both thanks, and as a way to avoid the question. “Reggie,” Luke insisted when he didn’t say anything.

“I’m dealing with it…” Reggie mumbled. The presence of his friends grounded him, helping him stay in the present and not think back to his parent’s more recent fight.

“You don’t have to deal with it alone,” Luke reminded him. Reggie hummed softly, basking in the solidity of his friends. He was safe here, he could tell them the truth. They wouldn’t yell at him for feeling sad or upset like his dad does. Luke and Alex were not his parents, they were his boyfriends, and they loved him almost more than he loved them.

“Sometimes it’s just hard.” Reggie said, surprising himself. They settled into a comfortable level of silence, Luke humming a soft unwritten melody. “You’re both really comfy,” Reggie said. Luke let out a soft chuckle, the sound vibrating in his chest.

“Glad to hear you think so,” Alex said as he continued to paw through Reggie’s hair. Luke nodded,

“What Alex said. It’s probably the five different sweatshirts he’s always wearing.” Alex reached over Reggie and whacked Luke’s head. Luke feigned being hurt, wincing as he rubbed the spot Alex hit.

“Dumbass, he likes me better!” Alex said teasingly, pulling Reggie closer to him. Luke snuggled closer to Reggie, not liking the fact that Alex stole him.

“Nuh huh!” Luke whined, trying to get Reggie’s attention by pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Reggie just smiled as he nuzzled into Alex’s chest, letting Luke flop on top of him.

“I like both of you,” Reggie said, settling the argument for the time being. “Now shut up. I’m trying to sleep.” Reggie buried his face into Alex’s sweatshirt, finally allowing himself the chance to relax completely.

“You deserve it,” Luke mumbled as he started to hum the same song from earlier. The melody wrapped around Reggie like a protective blanket, protecting him from the harm of the outside world. The lullaby was calming and Reggie couldn’t help but wonder if it was something Emily had sung to Luke whenever he had trouble sleeping.

“‘S pretty,” Reggie muttered, eyelids growing heavier. Luke hummed in appreciation as Alex started to run his hands through his hair. “Love you,” he whispered, eyes finally closing. The world around him grew dark, but Reggie knew no matter what happened while he was sleeping his friends would keep him safe.

“We love you too Reg,” Luke whispered as Reggie was finally able to fall into one of the most peaceful naps he’s had for weeks.

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cela-astral-projection · 5 years ago

Text

I believe this time Begging for sweet relief A blessing in disguise

Night gave way to morning. Muriel had woken first and prepared a simple breakfast. Eggs, toast, coffee, and tea. Julian was up with the smell of coffee. Asra and Celeste weren't long behind.

Celeste only taking tea, well sugared, not quite able to stomach the idea of food. Julian did put up a small protest, that she needed to have her strength up, but she insisted that she couldn't possibly eat. For the most part, they sat in groggy, early morning quiet. Asra cleared the table when they had finished.

Julian stood and put his hand on Celeste's shoulder. She placed her hand over his, and they locked eyes. She nodded, not needing words. He helped her up and to the bedroom. Asra was busy at the washbasin, but Muriel watched them go together, scowling.

"Stop," Asra said, quiet. Not turning from his task.

"Stop what?" Muriel replied, not bothering to veil his contempt.

"Acting like Julian is your enemy in some way. He cares about her just as much as we do. Knock it off." He said, plainly.

Muriel turned to stare at Asra, incredulous. "That's the reason why. And you know it is."

Asra paused and took a deep breath. He stared at the wall for a moment, then reached to grab a clean cloth to dry his hands, turning around, his eyes meeting Muriel's. "No. The reason why is that you don't trust them together."

Muriel bristled, opening his mouth. Asra put his hand up, not finished.

"Even on the day she is going to give birth to your child. Our children. You can't allow yourself to just believe that she's picked us? It should be one of the best days of your life. I know it's one of the happiest days of mine. She chooses us every day. This is the ultimate act of commitment. Forget the wedding. Forget the years we've lived in the same house. Forget the traveling and the battling and the actual Devil. She has put us first most every time." He took a seat next to Muriel, putting his hand on his arm. "You have to make peace with Julian. You don't have to love him or even like him, but he's not going anywhere. And he's a good ally to have. Maybe not in the past, but he is now."

Muriel sighed, still tense. "I'll..try." He couldn't quite meet Asra's intense stare any longer, thoroughly chastened.

"Oh, you'll do better than try. You're going to put on the best act of your life today. For her. This is going to be intense, and stressful, and painful, and she needs to know that you're all in for her."

"I'm always all in for her." His eyes flashed, offended at the insinuation.

"Great. Then we won't have any problems." Asra said, a slight lilt in his voice. He slung the dishrag over his shoulder and stood, turning back to the washbasin.

After a few minutes, Julian emerged, coming to sit across from Muriel at the table. "Good news, it looks like things are on the move. She's about five centimeters, so...more or less halfway there. I look for contractions to pick up over the next couple of hours. They're frequent enough now, but not terribly intense."

"How long?" Muriel said, standing.

"I wish I had an exact answer for you. It could be just a few hours, could be longer." He shrugged. "She's getting washed up and changed if you want to help her. I think it would be safe for her to get out and breathe the fresh air. Don't go far, of course. Just..." He trailed off. "...I think movement might move things along. I really don't want her to go into the night if we can avoid it. Not with twins."

Muriel nodded silently. "Thanks." He said, low. Julian gave him a half-smile. Muriel closed his eyes, resigned. Then, went to Celeste.

The hours passed slowly. The three of them taking turns, walking the cabin's perimeter. Keeping her plied with tea and ginger to fight nausea.

Morning gave way to the afternoon. And things were picking up.

Longer, more intense contractions. She would cling to them, her brow slick with sweat, moaning as waves of pain rolled over her. Soon, walking was an impossibility.

She and Muriel in the front yard. She was bent forward at an awkward angle, her hands on Muriel's shoulders, swaying back and forth involuntarily, knees wide apart. He ran his hands up and down her arms, trying to soothe her. "It's okay, it's okay." He said, a whisper. Possibly more for himself than her.

Julian stood on the porch, watching, leaning against a post. "I think it's time to go set up camp in the bedroom, Lovely." He came to meet them. "We'll wait till this passes." He stood beside, her running his hand up her spine. Every muscle was taut, caught in spasm. "Poor chick," he said with a sigh.

When the contraction subsided, she stood, trying to catch her breath. Julian pulled her arm around his shoulder, and Muriel crouched, taking the other side. They lead her into the house, moving slowly.

Asra was preparing the bedroom, ready to take her in. They sat her at the end of the bed, and Muriel moved in behind her, pulling her back into his chest.

Asra knelt at her side, taking the hem of her skirt in his hands, pulling the loose dress up. Celeste weakly lifted her arms, allowing him to undress her. Julian stood at the washbasin at the side, scrubbing in. "Asra, generally I'd ask your wife, but, as she's...rather indisposed. I wonder if you might help me with my gloves and jacket?" He said, jerking his head towards his bag.

"Sterile?" Celeste said, dreamy, far away.

Julian laughed. "I believe you're the one who saw to that personally. You've had your very own delivery bag packed for weeks. But, we're on top of things, now. Don't worry."

Asra scrubbed and helped Julian dress, fastening the buttons of the jacket up to his throat, pulling the gloves on for him. They looked at each other in the eyes, steeling themselves for what was to come.

Another contraction hit, and Celeste hissed, pressing back into Muriel's chest. Asra was at their side, And Julian was between her knees. "Oh, you clever girl. It won't be long now."

And it wasn't.

A few strong pushes later, she was delivered of a small, pink daughter. Her tiny, pudgy folds smudged with pale vernix. Sparse hair was so light it was transparent. Tiny fists and eyes clenched and wailing from the start. Julian reached up to lay the babe on her chest. She laughed, tears rolling down her cheeks. Arms encircling the tiny, screaming mass. Nobody was quite immune to the tears. Asra's girl.

Muriel kissed Celeste's temple, one long arm drawing Asra into their side, the other rested over Celeste's arms. Asra ran his arm along Muriel's, his head on Celeste's shoulder, enraptured by her. Their daughter.

It took only a few minutes for her to settle, and Celeste passed the baby into Asra's arms after Julian clamped and cut the cord. Her mouth opened and closed, tiny pink tongue flicking out, her eyes fluttering. Still that deep, dark, newborn blue. He pressed his lips against her forehead. So small, precious, and fragile.

Julian, meanwhile, was palpating Celeste's stomach. Still breech. He sighed to himself, quiet. Of course, Muriel's child would be stubborn. "Doesn't seem to want to turn for us, Lovely." He said. "Generally, you take the reigns, here. What do you think?"

She ran her hand over her belly, focusing her magic. "Footling presentation. It...will not be pleasant. But it's manageable. I'm only afraid of cord prolapse. If that's the case...do what you have to. I'm going to try to ease things along with...whatever magic I can manage safely."

Muriel shook his head. "Do you have enough energy for that? Asra is here...he can take care of it."

She sighed. "He may have to, but...I want to try my magic first. I promise to stop if things look dangerous. Trust me."

Muriel drew a deep breath. "Okay. I trust you. Both of you." He said, his eyes falling on Julian. An entreaty, and a warning. Julian nodded, understanding the meaning.

A few minutes later, contractions overtook her. She ran her hands over the mound of her stomach rhythmically, breathing sharply in and out, pressing back into Muriel's chest. Asra stood to the side, rocking the first baby back and forth, looking on, nervous.

The feet were born first, and the legs swiftly after. Julian gave a laugh. "She's a long shank."

"She?" Muriel said, smiling. "Another girl?"

Julian nodded, pulling a soft cloth around the little body. Cord prolapse was one thing. But if she got cold, and gasped, it could be equally catastrophic. "Lovely, I'm going in for her arms now. Little breaths." Celeste nodded, gritting her teeth. She cried out when he slipped his fingers in, hooking them around the baby's arms, drawing them down. Muriel gripped her tight until he had finished. "Nearly there. We can let gravity do the rest," he said, his hands loosely on the infant's torso, head still engaged in the birth canal. "Don't push, don't push." He said, low. Steadily, but slowly, the child emerged. There it was, the hairline. He reached back in, finding her mouth. Celeste bit her lip, trying not to jerk. Julian applied gentle traction. And then, she was delivered. Darker skin, and deeply red. And much, much longer than her sister. All legs and arms. Thick, dark hair atop her head.

And utterly silent.

Muriel tensed, and Celeste made a strangled noise. Julian gathered her into his chest, running his hand up her back. "Come on, little one. It's your birthday."

Nothing, no noise. He tilted her back, looking her in her face. Breathing. Steadily. He flicked her foot, and she jerked. Reaction to painful stimuli.

The baby blinked at him, looking...annoyed, her tiny mouth puckered. Julian laughed. "Well. I see that expression is genetic." He looked her over. Good color. Muscle tone. He smiled up at Celeste. "She's fine, she's just all attitude."

Muriel laughed, reaching his arms out. Julian lifted her into their embrace. Once she was cradled in the crook of his arm, laying at her mother's breast, she squinched her face and gave a loud, piercing shriek, leaving no question to her wellbeing. Asra rejoined them, placing their other child at her other breast, helping Celeste support her.

"I'm so tired I only want to sleep, and I don't care if I never sleep again." She said, breathy, raining kisses on both of their tiny heads. Muriel's hands moved into her hair, pressing his lips against her forehead. Asra mirrored him. Love overflowing.

As evening fell, everything had been put back to rights. Celeste laid in a nest of pillows and furs, flanked on each side by Muriel and Asra, and Julian sat at the foot of the bed. They passed the sleeping newborns between the four of them. Counting fingers, toes. So soft, and so small. Heavy, and yet impossibly light.

"I might be partial, but I think they're the most beautiful babies I've ever seen." Celeste cooed, running her fingers over the blonde wisps of the baby in Muriel's arms.

"I'd say you're an authority on the subject, and I'll second it," Julian said, rocking the other girl from side to side gently, swaying.

Asra's chin rested on Celeste's shoulder, looking blissful.

Julian looked up. "Names?"

Asra shook his head. "We'll have a naming ceremony later. My parents wanted to be here for it. And we wanted to see them before we made any firm decisions."

Muriel nodded his agreement. "I'm not known for my naming talents. Ask the chickens."

Celeste scoffed and Asra laughed.

They sat in silence for a while, then Celeste nudged Julian with her foot, arms outstretched. "Going to try another round of feeding. See if I can keep their interest for a while longer."

Julian leaned in, passing the baby into her arms. "Sounds like a plan. I'll try to find something for us all to eat in the meantime." He said as he moved to stand. "Any requests?"

"Anything you want to make is fine," Muriel said, giving him a weak half-smile. "Thanks."

The corner of Asra's mouth turned up. Good enough. It was a start.

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afewmarvelousthoughts · 5 years ago

Text

Violet Skies

Pairing: Bucky X OFC

Summary: When Bucky tries to get away from yet another moment of chaotic change he’s faced with a reminder that fate, sometimes, is kind to those that wait.

Warnings: Smut and a truckload of feels.

A/N: I don’t know how @littledarlinhavefaithinme does it but for the second time one of her writing challenges has sent me on a journey I didn’t expect but am so happy to have gone on. (Prompt in bold.)

I hope y’all can forgive the lack of series updates in lieu of this (lengthy) one-shot.

Oh and I finally said, “Fuck it,” and made an OFC so feedback is very welcome. ALL the thanks to @wonderlandmind4 for being my beta to make sure I stayed on track with not slipping into my insert habits. She's a goddamn blessing y’all.

I hope you love it pumpkins!

Tags are open!

@mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4 @stevehesaidabadlanguageword @buckysstar @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @siriuslycloudy2 @wildmoonflower @cutie1365 @handplucked @jewelofwinter @whiskeywinter89

(If you should be in my perma-tags and you’re not here let me know so I can fix it!)

Bucky needed to get away.

It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the new friendships he was forming or the posh new digs he’d been granted courtesy of Pepper Pots and the Avenger’s Fund. He was deeply grateful. Even so, it was all so much so fast and he desperately needed to disappear to clear his head.

As he tears down highway mile after highway mile heading south, memories of another time when he needed the same freedom, fill his mind.

Unbeknownst to him, the summer of 1943 would change his life forever. In July they informed him that he was one of the best shots they’d seen in a while—he’d be an invaluable asset in the field. All Bucky heard was that they wanted him to be a killer. That knowledge sat like a brick in his gut for weeks.

When they gave him leave to return home for a stint in August he couldn’t bring himself to head straight back to Brooklyn. After all, how could he look his Ma in the eyes and tell her what they wanted him to do…

Instead, he’d done the same thing he was doing now. He ran south.

The New Orleans he pulled into would be different than the one he encountered all those decades ago. He knew time and the brutality of nature would have changed the city forever, but as he rode into the French Quarter he was pleasantly surprised to see so many things had remained the same—on the outside at least.

The last time he was in this city he had stayed in the cheapest hotel he could find. To say it was questionable would be giving it too much credit. This time, he decided he’d give himself the benefit of a decent stay. The Soniat House was central and nice, but it still had an older feel that soothed him. He liked knowing he wasn’t the oldest thing around.

It’s too early to check-in when his bike pulls up, Sunday morning. He didn’t have a plan, no sites he necessarily wanted to see and no memories he’d allow himself to seek out. All he wanted was peace. The easiest way for him to find that was to move, sitting still too much—especially alone—let his mind wander to things he’d prefer to forget for now. So, rather than linger in the lobby, he leaves his bike and heads into the Quarter on foot.

Despite it being fall the warmth and humidity are still heavy—he loves it, if he never had to be cold again in his life he’d be happy.

After a few blocks, he finds himself in Jackson Square, staring up at the beautiful facade of the St. Louis Cathedral. A steady stream of locals and tourists head into the sanctuary for Sunday morning mass. He can’t help but laugh at himself—once an altar boy.

He hadn’t stepped foot in a church since he’d been free. Some part of him felt unworthy, maybe even a little afraid. After everything recently he longed for something familiar though. With slight hesitation he joins the flow of people, taking a seat as far back as possible.

A few things were different in the ceremony but for the most part, the cadence was as he remembered. He ignored the automatic urge to take communion, watching others with just a touch of envy. Would he ever feel like he deserved to do such a thing again?

The homily was oddly fitting. The priest spoke on forgiveness—not the kind that comes from some benevolent being but the kind from within.

“We must all forgive ourselves, especially in the wake of The Blip, for the things we did to mourn, heal, and survive. After all, if our heavenly father can forgive us these things, who are we to stand in defiance of his wisdom?”

And who says God has forgiven any of us anything? Bucky thinks, bitterness filling his mouth.

When the service ends he tries to slip out without having to shake the Father’s hand. The size of the crowd prevented that though and he found himself face to face with the kindly man.

He grasps Bucky’s hand, a genuine smile on his face. “Thank you for your service soldier.”

Bucky’s heart kicks up, “How did you-”

The priest laughs a little, “You’ve got the look son. Have a blessed day.”

“Thank you, Father.” He forces a weak smile and heads away from the crowd.

An all too familiar restlessness had settled over him since the priest had clocked him for a soldier. It was the feeling that came over him before a mission, similar to the feeling that hangs in the air before a thunderstorm, itchy and electric. He hates it.

Heading for the hotel once more he handles check-in. Since he rode his bike down he’d packed light but this also meant that settling in took not nearly long enough.

He showers, hoping the steaming hot water will wash away this feeling of anticipation but it does nothing. Staring at his reflection in the foggy mirror, tired eyes, grey dusted bread, long hair dripping with water, he comes to a decision.

With a plan in his mind, he changes quickly—slipping into a pair of dark slim denim, a black v-neck tee, and his light bomber jacket—sure it was warm but he’d rather not deal with the stares.

It only takes him a few blocks to find an open barbershop. Swallowing his nerves he steps in.

In a little over an hour he stares, dumbfounded, at a reflection, he can’t quite connect to. This is a different man, someone who died in 1945 and couldn’t possibly be sitting here. This was the James Buchanan Barnes in the Smithsonian, the one in history books.

No, he says to himself, this is me. He still has his beard, albeit groomed, he’d never had a beard back then. The hair is similar, short on the sides and long on top.

This is me, he repeats. Like Sam said, he’s not either Sergeant Barnes or The Winter Soldier—he’s both, all the experiences, good and bad, coming together to make him who he is.

“You clean up real nice son,” the man, who couldn’t be more than 50 says with a smile.

He returns the smile, “This is all you, sir.” All while thinking, I’m likely old enough to be your grandfather.

Despite the man’s protest, he pays him three times the cost of the services plus a tip. What was the point of having money if you didn’t use it like this?

Some of the anxiety lifts after he walks from the shop. He feels lighter like he left something behind there to be swept up and tossed. The rest of the afternoon is spent eating, poking his head into a few shops, enjoying not having anything he feels he has to do.

Evening begins to fall as he watches the Mississippi from a bench in Woldenberg Park. There’s a touch of pleasant coolness to the breeze now, lifting some of the dense humidity he’d grown used to throughout the day.

He breathes in the air, curling his fingers behind his head as he leans his face up to the sky, eyes sliding shut. Being by the water always brought him a sense of peace.

It’s not that he’s tired but closing his eyes feels nice. Soon his muscles relax and he allows himself to doze just a bit. When he opens them once more the sun is just peeking above the horizon, a swatch of orange beneath a violet sky.

Instantly his mouth goes dry as a voice from the past whispers to him about another lifetime and a violet sky.

—

Sweat drips in rivulets down his back. The brass band chases away all other thoughts that could fill his mind. Cigarettes, whiskey, and the smell of the woman next to him fill every other sense.

He’d lost track of time. Was it day two or three? Was this the fifth gal he’d take back to his squalid digs? When did he have to leave? He had to leave right?

His head began to spin.

“James?” The woman next to him tugs on his sleeve. He doesn’t respond, unused as he is to hearing that name. “Hey, James?”

“Huh?” He looks down at her. “Sorry.”

“I don’t wanna bust your chops soldier but you’re lookin’ pretty sauced.”

“Guess I am,” he slams back the remains of the whiskey in his glass.

“Why don’t you take me back to your place then?” She coos the question against his ear. Her hands wander down his torso, grabbing his belt to tug him close.

This isn’t what he wants. Sure, she’s pretty enough but he’s too warm, too drunk, and too morose for this. He needs air.

“I hate to ditch a dame like you but,” he pushes her back, “I’m gonna have to call it a night.”

“What? Are you serious?” She looks so offended, he wished he cared.

“Yeah. Have a good night, Carol.”

“It’s Mary!” She yells to his back. He doesn’t acknowledge her as he makes his way through the crowd to the door.

Once outside he’d hoped for relief but in this southern climate, the sun being down didn’t do much of anything for the heat in August. He barely makes his way down the street before stumbling into an alley to relieve his stomach of the whiskey sloshing around in it.

“Fuck,” he groans pressing his forehead against the bricks. They’re barely cooler than his skin but it feels good none the less. He heaves once more before stumbling to the other side of the alley and collapsing.

A lump rises in his throat. He forces it down along with the nausea, cradling his face in his hands. Home. He needed to make his way home. But home meant facing the future…

“You doin’ alright down there?” A velveteen voice croons from somewhere above him.

With effort Bucky forces his eyes open locating the source of that sweet voice. A woman leans over the edge of the second-floor iron balcony of the building he just wretched on.

“Been better. Sorry.”

“Stay there,” she calls down before disappearing.

He very much wished he had the gumption to run and hide. But his dignity was just going to have to withstand this particular embarrassment because there was no way he was going anywhere fast.

In a few minutes, a woman steps onto the sidewalk. Once he gets an eyeful he feels a little soberer and a whole lot lousier. This wasn’t just some bland bird. The woman swaying toward him was, simply put, stunning. And she had undoubtedly just watched him hit bottom.

Excellent, he thinks.

“Here,” she kneels down holding out a glass that looks damp with condensation.

He does a double-take, unable for a moment to think about anything but caramel skin, freckles, full red lips, and the most fascinating eyes he’d ever seen. At a glance, they could be called grey but truly they were silver, rimmed with coal-black lashes and filled with tender concern.

“I’m so-sorry ma’am,” he stutters trying to force himself up straighter. “I don’t mean to be a nuisance.” Right now he’s happy he could blame the whiskey and heat for his burning ears.

“You’re not a nuisance.” Her voice wasn’t exactly the predominant southern drawl he’d been hearing in the city. There was something else to it, softer, foreign even. “Drink this, it’s just water.”

“Thank you.” Gratefully he takes the glass, gulping down the contents with relief.

“Better?” He nods. “Good. Now,” she pulls the stopper off an unmarked bottle and hands it to him, “drink this. It’ll take the edge off.”

He eyes her suspiciously for a moment, searching for some kind of malice, as he takes the small bottle. Cautiously he sniffs it. The contents don’t smell bad, a mix of mint and a smell that made him remember summer lightning. Strange, but honestly he didn’t give a damn. Without any more hesitation he drinks it.

There’s a moment of zinging through his whole body and then… nothing. Not even the uncomfortable drunken haze remained. Yeah, he still felt a little intoxicated and his abdomen was a touch sore from vomiting but all in all his faculties seemed restored.

“What the hell is that?” He studies the bottle, looking for some kind of identifying mark. There’s only a little wax from where it had held the stopper and a slight greenish tint from the liquid that was once inside.

“Magic,” her voice sounds mischievous. He looks up at her and she winks.

Bucky laughs a little, “Well, whatever it was you could make a fortune selling it.”

“Maybe,” she stands, extending a hand to help him up. Once on his feet, he dusts his trousers off, more to buy time as he searches for something to say than thinking he could actually fix his rumpled appearance.

“Apologies for chucking up on your place here…” Smooth, Barnes. Real smooth. He chides himself.

The woman only laughs, “Oh this isn’t mine. I was just at some awful party. Really, you did me a favor by picking this spot to lose it.”

He grins, “Well, in that case, I guess we’re almost even.”

“Almost?”

“Let me buy you a drink and we can really be square.”

She raises an eyebrow, gesturing to the other side of the alley. “Haven’t you had enough booze?”

He shrugs, “You worked your magic. I’m ready for another round.”

Those fascinating eyes narrow then soften. “Alright. But you only get one magic potion a night so if you end up in another alley you’re stuck there.”

“Fair,” he flashes her a wide smile.

“Let me take this back inside,” she holds up the glass. “I’ll be right back.”

Without a word, she hustles into the building. Honestly, a part of him doesn’t expect that she’ll be back but in just a few minutes there she is, tucking one of her tight dark curls behind her ear as she heads out to meet him.

“Glad you came back,” he smiles at her as she approaches.

“What, think I’d run off?”

“Wasn’t sure if a lamb like you’d really wanna go grab a drink with a drunk you met in an alley.”

“How d’you know I’m such a lamb, huh?” Her eyes glint with the kind of moxie that really gets his temperature up.

“You did just come to my rescue back there,” he thumbs back to where he’d been sitting.

“That makes me a hero, not a lamb.” Multiple rings glint on her fingers as she sets her hands on her ample hips.

“True,” he concedes. “Ya know, I didn’t catch my savior's name.”

She smiles, “Antoinette.” She pronounces it in the French style, the first syllable making a soft sound as it crosses those lips. “But you can call me Toni.” It’s beautiful, perfect for her.

“Pleasure to meet you, Toni,” he holds out his right hand. She takes it, soft skin sliding against his callouses, “I’m Bucky.”

“Pleasure,” she nods. “Come on, let’s get that drink.”

She takes a few confident strides forward as Bucky stares at her retreating form for a moment. The open back of her halter dress is as tantalizing as the sway of her hips.

“Damn,” he whispers under his breath.

Pausing she swings her head back, a broad grin on her lips, “I know it’s a fine view but it’s rude to keep a lady waitin’.”

Bucky laughs, “Must’ve left my manners with my dignity in the alley.” He catches up, taking her proffered arm.

The joint she leads them to doesn’t look like much of anything from the outside. There’s no street entrance, instead, they wind their way back through an overgrown courtyard and enter through a door that’s seen better days—in fact, Bucky was a little worried the thing was going to fall off the hinges when she swung it open.

As soon as they’re in, he hears low notes of a sax playing a smooth song. Down the dim hall, they follow the music until reaching an intricate wooden door guarded by a doorman.

“Wondered if we’d see you tonight Miss Toni,” the dark-skinned man flashes her a broad smile before giving Bucky the once over. “We do have a dress code ya know,” his tone far harsher than when he’d spoken to her.

Bucky’s not sure what to say. He looks like he’d been rode hard and hung up wet and he knows it.

“Oh come on, Cal. The Yanks havin’ a tough time is all. Make an exception for me?” She pats the man's lapel, batting her eyes up at him.

“Fine, but only cuz that cure-all you gave my mama has her up an’ about again.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Her tone is sincere.

“But if the boss wants him out-”

“I’ll handle it, Cal. Thanks!” She grabs Bucky’s hand and pulls him into the bar.

Violet shades cover all the lamps, paired with the haze from the cigarettes the room has an ethereal glow. People murmur quietly around small tables and in cozy booths, not a one speaking so loud as to interrupt the lone man on the stage playing that sweet melancholy sound.

Bucky doesn’t even realize that she left his side, nor that he’s been watching the man play for so long until she taps his shoulder, two drinks in hand, and nods her head toward a back corner booth.

“Thought I was the one gettin’ the drinks,” he says as soon as they slide into the booth next to one another.

“You seemed to be enjoying the show, didn’t seem right to interrupt.” Toni sips her martini, a satisfied look crossing her features before continuing. “Besides, not like I paid for it.”

“Got another beau up there,” Bucky tosses her a grin and takes a sip of the whiskey. It was fine stuff.

“Hardly,” her eyes slide around the patrons, “bartender owes me several.”

“Seem to have a lot of people in your favor.”

Her shoulders lift in a shrug, eyes diverting to the olives in her glass.

Bucky decides it’s a sensitive topic and switches tracks. “What’s this about me bein’ a Yankee anyway?”

“You are, aren’t you?” Her gaze slides up to meet his, a little smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

“What gave me away?”

“Oh come on,” her shoulder nudges his, “with that accent? How could you be anything else?”

“I don’t have an accent!” He plasters a look of mock offense on his face for emphasis.

“And neither do I,” she says with a snort.

“What is your accent anyway?”

“Creole. Don’t hear too much of it in the city these days.”

“Not from the city?”

“Not exactly.” Those shadows again. “Smoke?” She reaches into her purse and pulls out a cigarette case.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Bucky pulls his lighter out before she has a chance. “Let me,” he lifts the flame to her cigarette before his own.

She takes a drag. “The boy does have manners,” tendrils of smoke accenting her words further.

“A few. Don’t get your hopes up.”

On the stage, a small band has replaced the lone musician. Just a bass, drums, sax, and piano. More than enough though. They begin a slow but swinging tune that gets a few folks on their feet.

Bucky notices you watch them, a serene expression on her face.

“You happy just watchin’?” He asks as she finishes her drink.

Immediately she looks at him as though she forgot he was there for a moment. “I… yeah, usually. I… Well, I come here alone a lot.”

“That’s hard to believe.” He touches her fingers gently with his own as they both stamp out the remains of their smokes.

“On the house, Miss Toni,” the bartender says, depositing two identical drinks on the table.

“Thanks,” she smiles at the man.

“At this rate, I’m not gonna get to repay my debt.”

“I’m sure you can think of some other way to repay me.” She leans a little closer, moving her hand to slide her fingers between his.

“Hmm,” he hums, running his thumb across the surface of the rings on her fingers. Slowly, giving her time to pull away, he lifts her hand, placing a kiss on her knuckles. Beneath the table his free hand sliding just above her knee.

Eyes locked on hers, lips still hovering over her hand he says, “Why don’t we start with a dance?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

As the two of them dance one, two, three dances the bar fills with patrons. He’s not sad for it. The more people on the dance floor the closer he could hold her, the more excuses he had to breathe in her intoxicating scent of woodsmoke, roses, and a spice he can’t name.

No one’s doing the Lindy here. Everyone is dancing slowly, moving to the rhythm of the music and their partner.

Sometime in the middle of the fourth song the two of them stop moving, save for a slow sway. Those eyes of hers drawing him in. He lowers his lips, catching hers. To his relief, she returns his affection.

Eagerly she pulls him from the dance floor and back to their secluded booth. The larger crowd makes this space feel even more private, hidden. He’s glad of it.

Bucky presses her back into the corner of the booth, kissing her hard. Those soft lips open to him and he tastes her, something sweet with a hint of gin and smoke.

With effort he pulls back, smirking at the little pout on her face. She wouldn’t be pouting long.

He slides close, lifting one of her shapely legs over his. He curls an arm around her shoulders, drawing her into him. With her cheek on his shoulder, his body angled just so, and the privacy afforded by the booth he trails his other hand up her skirt, sliding his fingers around her underwear.

When his thumb slides across her bud he can just make out the little gasp she releases over the music and the crowd. Steadily he strokes, her body reacts, hips pressing up, demanding more.

Toni lifts her face up to his eyes glassy with desire, and kisses him until a small moan trips over her tongue.

“Hush now doll,” he croons into her ear, “don’t want anyone to come ruin the fun.”

He can feel her breath quicken, feel her shudder a bit beneath him.

“You like that,” he nips a little at her ear. A hand flies to her mouth to catch the sound. “Thought so. Come on sweetheart.”

Just a little more and… She buries her face in his shoulder, hand gripping his shirt tight as she comes hard.

Bucky moves his hand, wrapping her trembling form in his arms. For some time he holds her like this, comfortable, and admittedly a little self-satisfied.

Suddenly he feels her hand grab him, fingers deftly caressing his cock through the fabric. His breath catches as he looks down at her smirking face.

She lifts her lips to his ear, applying just a touch of pressure, “You think that makes us even?” Her teeth sink into his ear lobe causing his hips to thrust up, pressing into her grip. “Nowhere close.”

In moments they’re in the courtyard. Bucky presses Antoinette against the crumbling brick wall, pinning her arms to her sides as he trails kisses down her neck and collarbones.

“Bucky,” she groans pulling at his restraint.

“Come to my place,” he says in a gravel tone after kissing his name from her lips.

“Bet mine’s closer.”

“Lead the way then,” he releases her.

The block to Toni’s digs takes several times longer than it should. Neither of them able to go more than a few feet without pausing to taste the other. There’s a moment when Bucky isn’t sure they’re going to make it to her place before having one another.

They do make it though.

Toni stops in front of a shop, the sign above the door reads: “Madame Antoinette’s: Palmistry, Cards, Assistance.”

“You’re a… fortune teller or somethin’?” He asks as they walk through the suspiciously unlocked door.

“Or somethin’.” She pulls him by the arm through the small waiting area lit by the street lights to a room filled with bottles, pouches, herbs, and other strange paraphernalia with one lamp glowing in the corner. The next room is clearly where she tells her fortunes, dark, save for one thick candle burning in a lantern.

Bucky freezes, an entirely new desire overtaking him.

When she takes a step to head out of the space all she manages is to stumble, anchored by his unmoving form. Confused she looks back to him.

“Did you wanna gawk at the decor or me?”

His gaze slides from the velvet covered road table to her face, trying his damnedest to keep his features and tone even. “Read my fortune.”

“No.” Her tone is final. Once more she pulls at him but he doesn’t budge.

His hand grips hers tighter before tugging her into his chest, “Come on.” He gives her what he hopes is a confident grin.

“I said no,” she pushes against his chest and takes a step back.

“Why not?” His brows knit.

Toni looks at the floor, at the table, and finally back to him. “I don’t tell soldier’s fortunes.”

“I didn’t-”

“You didn’t have to. I knew.”

He doesn’t want to know how. “So you’ll take a soldier to bed but not read his palm?”

“Because I know my bed holds nothing but good things,” she spits. “The fortune of a soldier is almost always bad news.”

Silence hangs, the air between them crackling. “Besides, if you need the cards to tell you what the product of war is maybe you should reconsider, soldier.” It’s his turn to look away.

She strides to the doorway they’d been heading for. “You coming or not?”

“Please,” his voice is thick with emotion. When he’s able to meet her gaze again he can feel the tears sting the backs of his eyes. Closing the distance between them he grabs her hands in his, immediately her expression softens.

“Even if it’s bad. Please, Toni. I just… I gotta know.” He’s begging, likely losing any shot he has with her too, but it doesn’t matter. “I don’t even care if everything you tell me is bullshit. I just… I need somethin’…”

“It won’t be,” he cocks his head in confusion as her eyes drift to the table. “From me it won’t be bullshit. It will just… be.”

“Ok. I can take it. Better than not knowing.”

Subtly she shakes her head, pulling free from his grip and walking toward the candle. Bucky doesn’t move as she lights a thin stick, using it to light another white candle on the round table.

“Sit,” she commands. He does as he’s told.

Taking a deep breath Antoinette lays her hands on the table, palms up. “Give me your hands.”

He stares at her hands, suddenly nervous. “Don’t you need cards or-”

“Do you want this or not?” He nods. “Then give me your hands and shut up.”

When her hands close around his her eyes slide shut. For a few seconds everything seems normal but then he’s overcome with the strangest sensation-it’s like he’s floating and yet weighted down all at the same time, his whole body feeling the way a limb does after you’ve sat on it too long, numb yet tingling with sensation.

She releases his hands and he recoils instantly. When her eyes open he could swear that just for a second they were… glowing. It happened so fast he couldn’t be sure. What he was sure of was the steady stream of tears flowing down her freckle dusted cheeks.

“Tell me…”

Her voice is low, resonant, “You will become everything you fear. Ice will live in your veins. But only one hand will drip with blood, the other will remain snow white.” His breath leaves him. “But they will never know these things.”

Somehow he knows who she means—his family.

He almost doesn’t ask, almost doesn’t want to know… “Do… do I die… there?”

“No.”

“Oh, well… I guess that something right?” He tries to force a half-smile, he’s pretty sure it just looks like a grimace.

True sorrow filler her eyes before she has to look away from him. “There are far worse fates in this world than death, Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky tries, he really does, to keep it together, to be a man. He’s not strong enough though, not for this. The sob bursts from his lips before he can stop it. Desperately he covers his mouth as if he could put it back.

Before he can protest his face is enveloped in the soft black fabric of her skirt, one hand holding his face against her abdomen, the other wrapped around him. He doesn’t resist, flinging his arms around her allowing the tears to take him.

Toni’s soft hands pull his face up to look at her once his sobs quiet a touch, “Come upstairs, Bucky.”

He shakes his head, “I’m sorry, Toni, but I don’t think-”

“Shh,” she slides a finger over his lips. “Trust me. Please.”

Stepping back she grips his shoulders, guiding him up from the chair. In a haze of emotion he follows her blindly out of the room and up a narrow staircase. It opens into a large open room with windows and balconies on both ends.

Past a screen toward the back balcony is a large, brass fourposter bed. Beside it she stops, fingers making quick work of his shirt buttons, sliding the garment off his shoulders and pulling his undershirt over his head. He doesn’t stop her when they wander to his trousers. In moments he’s in nothing but his shorts.

Wordlessly she unties the neck of her dress, letting it fall to reveal her chest as she unzips her skirt. In another situation he’d never be able to resist those curves, but right now, how good he’d feel between her thighs is the furthest thing from his mind.

She removes her underwear and steps past him, climbing into the unmade bed. Turning he sees open arms beckoning him to join. Understanding dawns along with an immense wave of gratitude.

He makes his way into her bed, glad to press his back into her soft warmth, allowing her to hold him tight.

Toni presses gentle kisses against his left shoulder and begins to hum a pretty, soothing song. The melody accompanied by the soft whirr of an unseen fan and her reassuring presence soon rock Bucky into a deep, dreamless, sleep.

Soft morning light filters through the lace curtains casting intricate shadows on her sleeping form. One arm is curled tight against her chest while the other is tucked under her pillow. Through lids still heavy with sleep Bucky takes in the features of her serene face.

A mahogany curl lies over her closed eyes. Ever so carefully he tucks it back into the red-brown mass splayed across her pillow. Despite his best efforts, her brows knit for a split second before her lids slide open to reveal those silvery eyes. They remind him of full moons.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he lets his finger trace the line of her high cheekbone. Her lips curl softly in response, reaching one and caressing his rough cheek in kind.

Closing the small space between them in one motion, Bucky kisses her tenderly. Turning her body to fully face him she returns his affection. He runs a hand down her side and around her back pulling her close against him, the warmth of her body making him ache.

She slides a hand between them, lightly scratching her nails down his chest and abdomen. When she reaches his hips she grips him, pushing him to his back as she rises to her knees.

He doesn’t resist her—deft fingers coaxing his shorts off before studying the planes of his abdomen, the curve of his hips, the tense muscles of his thighs. Not once though does she touch the one place on his body that is begging for it. Each touch elsewhere causes his cock to jerk painfully, desperate for contact.

Lips curled into a coy smile she leans over him, the tips of her breasts barely touching his chest. Lowering herself, she presses her body against him. He ruts against her, the soft flesh of her abdomen driving him wild.

She lets out a low purr, close to a laugh, “Patience.”

With her mouth teasing the tender flesh of his neck he lifts his hands to feel the curve of her spine down to her ass. Gripping the supple flesh there he tries to lift her, wanting to take her now. She reaches back, grabbing his wrists. Compliant, he allows her to pull them away, pinning them by his head.

Bucky had been with other women in the past. Never had he found himself in this position—he was utterly besotted.

When she covers his mouth with hers, he can’t help but groan with desire. Her lower body shifts thighs lifting to flank his.

Rising onto her knees the light shines on a bit of moisture on her stomach. A tiny touch of embarrassment rises in him but is obliterated when she catches it with her middle and ring fingers, brings them to her lips, and slowly sucks them clean. He can’t even breathe.

Those same fingers descend the length of her body and slide between her legs. Her lashes flutter, hips rising to her own touch. She removes them, glistening.

Before she can stop him he takes her wrist, drawing her hand to his mouth. Much as she had done, he tastes her, his tongue flicking the tips of her fingers. He holds her eyes with his, watching them widen as her breath hitches.

Toni leans down to him once more, shifting her hips forward. This kiss is unlike anything else he’s ever felt—he buries his fingers in her hair, not wanting her to stop, not wanting the humming in his chest to stop.

He can feel the heat of her hovering just above him. His cock twitches up and just barely touches the soft hair.

Lips still locked together, she reaches back to guide him into her.

Bucky thrusts up, the warm tight feeling of her sending tremors through his body. Their eyes open when he does so both frozen mid-kiss, breathless from the feeling of being joined like this.

Neither move at first. The connection somehow enough to satisfy for a time.

Untangling his fingers from her curls he grips her thighs. With a fluid swoop she rises, holding her hair back with one hand. Never looking from him she begins a steady rolling motion with her hips. He’s slack jawed with the feeling, unable to fathom anything better than this.

She runs her hands down to her breasts, taking her dark pink nipples between her fingers as he pushes himself deeper inside of her. He releases one of her thighs, wanting nothing more than to make her feel as good as he does.

As his thumb moves over her clit her head falls back, a dark moan filling the room. Her body arches, one arm braced behind her back the other holding onto his forearm, silently begging him not to stop.

“Bucky,” she whispers, tongue thick. Her hips move into a faster pace.

When her orgasm crashes into her he sits up, twining his arms around her back to bring her shaking body closer to his. Toni lifts herself just enough to wrap her legs around him, allowing him to push deeper within her.

As he moves slowly, his fingertips trace goosebumps on her spine, the feeling that they’re one being is otherworldly.

This is what it should feel like, he thinks, what it should always feel like, like magic.

“What are you?” He whispers, feeling her walls tighten around him.

“Yours,” she responds.

That’s all it takes to tip him over the edge.

His fingers grip her ass, pushing their pace a bit faster. She braces herself against his shoulders.

“Antoinette,” he breathes, unable to make another word rise to his lips, unable to ask.

“Yes,” she answers his unspoken question.

His whole body tenses, brows knit, a low groan rumbles from deep within him as his muscles release. With a need he can’t quite name his mouth seeks hers again before they fall—panting, sweat sparkling on their skin—back into the embrace of the bed.

“You don’t have to go, not yet,” she says as her fingers absently run through the hair on his chest. Rising on an elbow she turns those bewitching eyes on him, “Just stay until tomorrow at least.”

He tries not to dwell on how she knew where his thoughts were without him saying a damn thing. The truth was he didn’t want to go.

“Ok, tomorrow,” he agrees before catching her lips with his.

Tomorrow turned into another tomorrow and before he knew it he’d been falling asleep in Antoinette’s bed for four nights.

In truth, it was all a sweet blur. Languid days spent exploring New Orleans by her side. She’d tell animated stories of the city as they walked—painting such a vivid portrait of events and people from decades prior that if he didn’t know better he’d think she lived it.

Bucky couldn’t help but smile as folks from all walks would stop them to thank her for some cure she’d provided, some guidance she’d offered. Without hesitation she’d stop anything she was doing if someone made a request of her. More than once someone had whispered how lucky he was to be in her company as if he could somehow be unaware.

He’d seen people in his life who wore their goodness like a badge of honor, something they hoped people would laud them for. Not her. It was just who she was. Each time he was reminded of this it also served to remind him that she’d never be his, not really. He wasn’t destined for such goodness.

When the sun lowered beneath the river they danced in clubs he’d never have found otherwise. Drank in music, and liquor, and each other like they’d have all the time in the world to do so.

Now, he lays in her bed, studying the curves of her body through the open French doors, unable to fathom how he’d just had her and yet his body is already begging for more.

The new moon kept the sky dark and little light from the city touched the back balcony—even so, her caramel skin seemed creamy, almost luminescent.

He rolls from the comfortable confines of her bed, padding out to join her. Without hesitation, she leans her body into his as he comes up behind her. Plucking the cigarette from her fingers, he takes a deep drag, his free hand caressing the soft skin of her abdomen.

“Tomorrow,” she sighs, her head falling back onto his shoulder to be able to see his face. “You’ll leave tomorrow.”

He had decided to do so earlier that day, he just hadn’t known how to tell her. “Yeah.” She nods in acknowledgment, turning her gaze back to the summer night, twining her fingers tightly around his.

They make love slowly almost reverently the next morning. He doesn’t want to forget a single thing about her.

As he sits on the edge of the bed his stomach flops over at the thought of getting on the train that evening. He rests an elbow on his thigh, leaning over to cradle his head in his hands.

“Don’t go.” Her tone is suddenly frantic as she turns him back to face her, sitting on her knees in the middle of the mattress.

“I have to Toni,” he shifts his body to be more squarely on the bed. “I gotta see my family before…” He can’t manage to finish the statement.

“But you don’t have to go. Not to Europe.” She grabs his hands, gripping them with all her might. “We could run. I have enough money tp go-”

“Where would we run, Toni. The whole damn world is-”

“Not the whole world! We could go to Mexico City. Or maybe Saint Domingue, live on the beach, spend every day in the water…” Her fingers trace the outlines of his face, “Please. Don’t go. Don’t… you don’t have to…” He knows what she can’t bring herself to say.

“I’d be yours you know. I’d say yes.” The twin moons of her eyes are huge, imploring, tempting. Tenderly he takes her hand, placing a kiss on her knuckles, shaking his head.

“You deserve someone much better than me, Toni.” Someone better than what I’ll become…

“Don’t assume you know what I deserve,” shadows darken her expression. “You’re a good man, Bucky, you deserve better than what you believe, better than what fate has given you.” Her hand covers his heart before her eyes squeeze closed as if in pain. He feels that same tingling as he had when she’d told his fortune.

“Toni?” His tone drips with concern.

When she looks back to him her eyes brim with tears. “Please,” she says once more.

“I can’t darlin’. I’d never be able to forgive myself if I went AWOL. I got a duty and I’m gonna do it.”

“Then promise me something,” she takes his hands in hers.

“Anything, Antoinette, anything.” He means it.

“Remember, they can’t take this from you,” her fingers poke above his heart. “Nothing they do, nothing, will stop you from being James Barnes in here.”

“I’ll remember…” He kisses her softly. “I promise.” Even if he doesn’t believe her.

Even though he has to leave soon he can’t resist pulling her to the bed again.

Just one more time, one more and leaving will be easier, he tells himself.

He’s wrong.

Just before evening they stand outside the train station, holding on to one another so tight it almost hurts.

“It’s not too late,” she says against his lips after another hard kiss, “you can change your mind.”

He just shakes his head, smiling sadly.

Under the light of sunset, she’s radiant. The orange’s picking up the red in her hair and the warmth of her skin. He’d never meet someone like her again.

There’s something he needs to know, even if it’s not an answer he wants.

“Will I ever see you again?” Speaking the question aloud makes his heart constrict. Her gaze is distant, as she seems to look through him, the tingle beneath his skin there again.

Toni looks up and the sky, voice far away, “Under another violet sky, in another lifetime, our paths will cross again.”

“I’ll look forward to that lifetime then,” because clearly it would be better than this one. Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

An announcement cuts him to the bone. Final boarding.

She grabs his face in her strong but delicate hands, the metal from her rings pressing to his skin. “I will never forget you, Bucky Barnes.”

“I won’t forget you either.” She looks away as if in doubt. He decides one final kiss will convince her. “I won’t.” He stares into her eyes, willing her to believe him.

“Until the next time.” He’s relieved she didn’t say goodbye, there were too many goodbyes coming for him. She kisses him once more releasing him.

“Next time,” he nods and runs to catch the train.

Once in his seat he looks out the window seeing her. He slides the window open.

“Don’t forget your promise!” She yells up.

“I won’t, Antoinette. I swear!”

He watches the tears slide down her face until she’s out of sight… forever.

A tear slides out of the corner of his eye before he can catch it.

He’d broken every promise he made to her. They took his heart, they took her. When he’d come down here, she wasn’t even on his mind. Hell, had he even remembered those extraordinary five days with Antoinette until now?

He doubles over on the bench, arms wrapped around him.

Memories were a double-edged sword. They connected him to who he was, who he’d been before, but fuck they tore at his soul in a way that made him long for nothingness again.

Here was someone else to mourn, someone else to ache for. She was probably resting in one of New Orleans’ elaborate cemeteries now, next to whatever man got lucky enough to hear her say yes.

Maybe he’d find her. Bring flowers, say he was sorry…

Her home had been in the Quarter, he could find that easier, faster, than a grave. It was as good a place to start as any.

Hands shoved in his jacket pockets he begins to walk in a direction that feels right, eyes glued to the sidewalk. Looking at the sky just made the ache worse, made her sweet voice ring in his ears again.

Turning a corner, not paying attention to anything but putting one foot in front of the other, he careens into someone.

“Shit! I’m so sorry!” He hustles to grab a can of coffee rolling toward the street.

“It’s ok,” a soft voice says. “My mind was a world away.”

The coffee can’s metal body creaks a bit as his left hand closes a little too tightly around it. Slowly he turns to see a mass of mahogany curls and ring covered fingers gathering the other fallen groceries into a reusable bag.

Every bit of breath is sucked from his lungs when twin moons look up at him. He staggers back like he’s been struck.

“An - Antoinette,” he stammers.

A massive smile lights her face, “I told you our paths would cross under a violet sky, didn’t I?” His jaw hangs open, eyes blinking rapidly trying to clear her from his vision, as she steps toward him. She grabs the coffee can from his grip before he breaks it.

“Trying to catch flies, Bucky?” One bejeweled finger lifts his chin.

There are a million things running through his mind as he tries to make sense of this—but nothing will come out.

She turns, “Come on, my place isn’t far.” Before she walks forward she throws a smile his way and gives him a wink.

Of their own volition his feet trudge after her.

It’s the same building he remembers but the sign advertising fortunes is gone. Instead it seems the bottom shop is a specialty bookseller. Patronage by Appointment Only read the letters on the still unlocked door.

His head spins as he follows her through the strangely familiar yet different space and up the back stairs.

Her living space was still open and airy though it now sported a proper small kitchen close to the front. And when he looked toward the back he saw the light glint on a familiar brass bed frame.

“Coffee?” Toni asks, as though this is just a normal thing.

He stares at her for a minute, stuck at the top of the stairs, as she moves about the kitchen. She sets a brass kettle on the island burner and pulls a French press from the open shelves. After scooping coffee into the container she finally looks at him.

“Did you like chicory? I don’t remember.”

“I,” his voice cracks. He clears his throat, “I don’t remember either, honestly.” Trance like he makes his way to the small round table close to the front balcony, collapsing into the wooden chair.

“It’s good. I promise.” The kettle screeches. She pours water into the press.

When she sets it on the table she doesn’t look at him. She turns back to the kitchen. He can’t stand it. His left-hand shoots out, grabbing her wrist with cool metal fingers. Languidly she looks back at him, meeting his eyes full on.

“Is this real?” Bucky knew that dreams could feel as real as anything. The terror that this is a hallucination grips him. Toni’s expression is soft as silk as she gently touches the side of his face, he fights to keep his eyes from closing at how good it feels to be touched like this.

“I am very real, Bucky.”

Despite how insane this is he believes her—knows she’s telling the truth, that he’s here, she’s here, this is real. He releases her wrist and she unflinchingly takes his left hand for just a moment before heading into the kitchen for mugs and cream.

She sits across from him, sliding a mug over, “That needs a few more minutes. Worth the wait though.”

Coffee is the furthest thing from his mind.

“How… how are you still alive?”

A smirk makes her eyes sparkle a bit. “Well, technically the Antoinette Desmarais you knew is dead.”

“Oh?” He laughs a little at the ridiculousness of this whole thing, “So… How long have you been dead?”

Her smirk turns to a smile, “Roughly 70 years.”

“Damn,” he forks his fingers through his hair. “Guess I missed the funeral then. Wouldda sent flowers but, pretty sure I was technically dead then too.”

She shrugs, “It was a small private affair. Most of my funerals are.”

“Had more than one?”

“A few,” she presses down the plunger on the French press before pouring the coffee. “That was my second. Had my third in ’96.” He watches her put a splash of cream in her coffee, normally he took it black but he follows her lead.

“The government gets a little suspicious if you just keep goin'. But if you die and leave your estate to your namesake, well, that’s fine.” She sips her coffee, “Guess you don’t have to worry about that though.”

“Nah,” he tastes his own cup, remembering that he did like this unique flavor back then. “For better or worse they’re pretty damn aware of me.”

Silence hangs for a few moments before he can’t bear it any more. “You didn’t answer my question, Toni… How?”

“Would, ‘I’m a witch,’ be sufficient enough?” She looks up at him through her thick dark lashes. He narrows his eyes, she sighs, “Didn’t think so.”

“Long story short… I was young, stupid, had power, thought I could do anything I wanted…” Her shoulders hunch forward, eyes on the coffee in her cup. “I… I went too far. Crossed a line. Someone came to stop me and I… I killed him.”

Bucky studies her, unable to imagine her doing harm to anyone.

“Just so happened he had a lover, someone far more powerful than me.” She shields her eyes a bit, cradling her forehead, “Bit of life advice, don’t piss off an ancient powerful sorceress, never ends well.” Leaning back, she tries to force something like a smile.

When he doesn’t speak she continues, “She punished me. In a way that, at the time seemed like a gift-”

“Immortality,” Bucky says in barely a whisper. He remembers the fortune she told, that there were worse fates than death. She would have known.

“No,” she shakes her head, “immortality is—well that costs far more than I was worth to her, no she cursed me with life. A long, long life. I called her a fool, a bald hag--childish nonsense. But… well, I guess you’ve discovered for yourself.”

Tears sparkle in her eyes when she looks back to him, “There are few things more painful than to watch everything and everyone you’ve known and loved die.”

“I didn’t watch,” he slides his right hand over hers, “but I do understand.” That’s why he’d ran down here, the weight of loss was too much.

Her fingers slide through his and for a time they stay like that, linked across the table, across decades, sharing an experience few would understand. It would have been enough to sustain him through another lifetime he thought.

“You’re taking this all rather well,” she lifts a perfectly shaped brow at him.

“A few months ago I woke up face down in the dirt to a wizard telling me that somehow five years had passed and that I needed to go through a glowing portal to help save the world again…” He chugs the remains of his coffee. “I also met a talking raccoon and tree. So… yeah… I’ll roll with just about anything after that.”

She laughs, “Well, I’m glad you had a primer on weird before we met again.”

He lets out a small laugh too, he left out meeting a god and the million other small things that still felt unreal to him in daily life.

“How long?” He asks sliding his thumb over the rough surface of her rings.

“Lose your manners again? It’s rude to ask a lady her age.” She smiles at him before finishing her coffee. “I was born here in 1821, one month to the day after Napoleon died.”

“So when we met you were…”

“‘Bout 120? Yeah.” She pours more coffee into her cup, releasing his hand, “Close enough to your age now I bet.” He nods.

“And you’re still here…” He motions around the space.

“Well, I wasn’t born here-here. I was born in New Orleans though. And I didn’t stay here the whole time, I just come back home when I need something-”

“Familiar,” he finishes the thought, knowing the feeling far too well.

“Yeah. The city changes but the Quarter, she’s kinda like me—we get older, get get a little rough around the edges, a little worn down, but we’re still standin’.” Toni’s expression is almost wistful.

As her expression is focused out the French doors, Bucky argues with himself. He’d gotten off that bench earlier with the intention to apologize to dust and bones because he thought he owed her that. Now here she was, as beautiful and alive as the day he met her, and the thought of admitting his failure seemed impossible.

“Don’t,” she says in a voice like velvet. He stares into her knowing eyes. “You don’t owe me a goddamn thing Bucky Barnes.”

He shakes his head, “I do though. I broke my promise.”

“No,” she sets her cup down, grabbing both his hands fiercely, “you didn’t.”

Weakly he tries to pull back but she won’t let him. “Antoinette… I… If you only knew what I’ve—I forgot you, forgot…” he pulls one hand free to point at his heart, “Forgot this.”

“No,” she says again, “you didn’t. If you did you wouldn’t be here.” He looks away, unable to find the words to tell her just how wrong she is.

She sighs, “You do know I have the internet, right? I may be over 200 but I’m not dead.” He looks back, confused.

“James Buchanan Barnes fell from a train in 1945, was presumed dead. After the events at the Triskellion, he’s now known as the longest-serving POW in history, forced to take the mantle of the Winter Soldier and commit heinous crimes in the name of his captors.”

His stomach drops. Faster than any normal man could manage he shoots from the chair, sending it screeching back. Unable to leave her yet though, he leans his head against the frame of the French door, attempting to breathe.

Almost soundlessly she comes up behind him, placing a soothing hand on his lower back. He flinches at the gesture.

“But you fought back,” she takes a shaky breath. “If they had taken your heart you’d still be The Winter Soldier, but no, Bucky Barnes is standing right here in my kitchen. Because you kept a promise you made all those years ago, to a woman you hardly knew.”

“You don’t know,” is all he can manage without breaking.

“I do.” She lifts a hand to cup his cheek, turning him to face her. “I didn’t see exactly what would happen to you, prophecy is never that simple nor clear, but I felt the void, the despair, the cold. I felt it then and I can see the scars in your heart now.”

He covers her hand with his, eyes closing. “I shouldda gone with you. Should of listened.”

“Yeah,” she huffs out a dry laugh, their clasped hands lowering, “lived out your days on a beach, peacefully. But fate will have what she wants, I knew it couldn’t be.”

Something occurs to him, “You said you’d say yes then. But…” She looks like she’s hardly aged, “You would have stayed the same and I’d be…”

“Dead? Likely so.” Her smile is tender, “But living one lifetime with you would have been worth the pain of lettin’ go I think.” He shakes his head, eyes sliding shut, unable to fully comprehend why he’d be worth that.

“And for what it’s worth. No one said that offer had an expiration date.”

“What?!” His eyes shoot open in disbelief.

Toni’s rich laugh fills the room, “Mexico City is still there, there’s plenty of beautiful beaches around the world to see too.” She presses close to him, “And, it’s a little old fashioned but… I believe I would still say yes to this,” she points at his heart just as she’d done before.

Bucky’s chest constricts. Without thinking he cradles her face in his hands and kisses her. She tastes like coffee and memories, her scent of roses and wood smoke and spice filling his nostrils. Her body melts into his, wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him back with just as much intensity.

He breaks the connection, pushing her back just enough to look into her face.

“Antoinette, there are things…” how can he tell her all the reasons she should run, all the reasons she should take it all back.

“You can tell me everything or nothing in time, Bucky,” she traces his lips with her fingers. “It seems that, for once, time is on our side.”

As the violet sky above them faded to navy and a fall breeze filtered through open doors—the two of them relived the feeling of hot summer nights from years past and dreamed of a future together that, though far from perfect, would maybe be a little less lonely.

#Bucky Barnes X OFC #Bucky Barnes #Bucky X OFC #Bucky #1940s Bucky #1940s bucky barnes #Enhanced!OFC #Bucky Fluff #Bucky Feels #New Orleans

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judgement-free-sideblog · 5 years ago

Text

Dancing lessons

Barry Berkman x reader

Summary: Barry is finally cast in a feature, the problem? He said he could dance and now he can either disappoint Sally or found a way to learn some steps.

Warnings: Swearing, blood, violence, guns, cheating maybe.

Part 1 ● Part 2 ● Part 3 ● Part 4 ● Part 5 ● Part 6 ● Part 7 ● Part 8 ● Epilogue

Part 2

One week after the first time Barry meet Y/N he was nowhere near learning tango, let alone dancing on the level his stupid resume said he could, he only have ended with horrible pain on his knees, thighs and back. And he hasn't even practice dancing with music yet, apparently his instructor thought he first had to learn one basic step and repeat it a million times before he could start doing the "flashy and presumptuous" step, as she called them, that the director may want.

"You really don't have to worry" Sally said during breakfast, they have an agreement to spend the night at least twice a week in each other apartment but he could tell she rather if he stayed at hers since Jermaine and Nick didn't get along with her. "That girl you say is dancing with you, I just heard from Lindsay that she is totally sleeping with the director so probably the scene is an excuse to show her dancing talent and they will be focusing on her instead of you" She drank the rest of her orange juice and stood up quickly "God is so late" she checked her phone and gave him a kiss on the cheek before taking her purse and keys and rush to the door "I'll see you tonight ok? Good luck!"

"Bye, I love..." And then she was gone. "You" He finished his breakfast and took his own car to the studio where he had to finish filming his scenes.

"Barry you're here, excellent!" Andre said when he arrived, thankfully he was not the star of the film and he didn't have to listen the hundred of notes he had for the leads nor taking all the shit the PAs get from him. "Look" He said pointing at his tablet "Janice is on New York for three more weeks for a Ballet presentation, but she sent this to me, is the perfect choreography for the scene. What do you think?" He showed her a clip of Janice and some professional dancer with a song he didn't knew, probably in Spanish or Italian, dancing incredibly close, with several lifts and spins.

"Great" He said feeling dizzy "Flashy and presumptuous" He add really low.

"What was that?"

"Classy and marvelous, is a modern take on the Argentine style isn't?" He said repeating what Y/N had said to him the day before.

"I have no idea, but hey you are the expert" He gave him a pat on the back. "You can start rehearsing with Janice when she gets back" He didn't like that kind of touching, it reminded him of Fuches and make him feel uneasy.

"Sure, great, hey could you send me that video, you know to study her movements" he tried to sound casual and not frightened as he was.

"Yeah sure" he said and with a hand gesture urged him to move to the set where he got to start shooting.

The minute he was over he drove back to Y/N's studio and saw her giving her class to young girls all dressed as ballerinas, she was wearing a black seetrough dancing skirt over a leotard, and his eyes lingered on her legs a few seconds more than he should mesmerized as he was by the elegance she used to dance.

"Barry you are early" She saluted him with a smile, "Girls say hi to Mr. Block" she said at the mass of pink and white.

"Hi Mr. Block" They cheered.

"I'll be done in a few minutes but this really is a private rehearsal" She pat her lips with one finger thinking "Would you mind waiting upstairs? I mean I would hate for you to drive back home to come back in less than an hour, and the coffee place on this block sucks" She said and the girls start laughing "Don't tell your mothers" She quickly add.

"I don't want to be a burden"

"Oh nonsense, you are not, go upstairs, I have food on the fridge but I wouldn't recommend it since you are dancing later and the WiFi password is written next to the phone" She insisted and he finally accept.

The apartment was just a little bigger than the one he rented with Jermaine and had a nice walls on a blue shade that reminded him of the ocean. And a big window facing directly to the door, so the first thing you see when you entered were the rooftop of other buildings and the hills in the back.

He entered feeling himself as an intruder, but being honest that was a common feeling for him, even if he haven't break in any place in over a year, a very long year, and again the pain of thinking of Fuches maybe lurking around strike him in the chest.

He found a place to sit and after being 5 minutes in complete silence trying to not be alone with his thoughts he took out his laptop to watch the dance again. Next to the landline was a nice picture of Y/N on his wedding dress next to a man that must be her husband with golden letters and numbers written over: JPTLV150813.

Once he was connected he allow himself to look around, the living room was tastefully decorated and there were some framed paintings of wild flowers on the wall in purples and pinks. He glance at their dinner table in the other room next to her kitchen, and while he was still holding he picture his mind start wandering, maybe Sally would like to live with him in a place like that. Full of light and peaceful.

He picture himself waking every morning and walking towards the kitchen to make her breakfast, she getting out of the set exhausted, to get a glass of wine in the living room. Reading lines together in the couch, and falling asleep there watching a movie.

And then since he hadn't sleep wery well and Y/N couch was madly comfortable he fall asleep still holding the picture and suddenly Sally's face start fading away, and Y/N replaced her, in a blue version of the clothes she was wearing earlier, he saw himself dancing with her on the living room, a slow and romantic rhythm, and instead of her husband it was him smiling on the picture next to the phone. She would come upstairs tired from work and he would stop her at the door to give her a passionate kiss... then the sound of a gun going off came from the window and a blood stain start forming in her chest running and she collapsing on his arms, and then it was Sally lifeless body again who he was holding and she whispered before losing her breath You did this and fearful he looked at his own hand holding the gun...

"Barry?" Y/N's voice came from the door, and immediately woke up and shake those horrifying ideas from his mind.

"Here" He call from the couch and was careful enough to not look back and don't picture her covered in blood

"I'm so done, boy I'm glad you came upstairs, Amanda's mother is a pain in the ass, if she have seen you she would have called the cops or something" She said and sit in next of him, she was already wearing the heels she used to practice with him. "What you got there?" She said looking at the screen where the video of Janice was still on.

"Is the dance I'm supposed to do for the movie" He said glad to have something to said and he showed her the clip.

"Well... you are screwed" She said after it was finish and he gave her an imploring look. "I'm kidding, I mean is a monstrosity of showing off, and her technique is not perfect, but I'm pretty sure you can put together something, like Ed Sheeran on Thinking out loud". She said confidently.

"Who?" He asked with no idea of what she meant.

"He is a British singer, we are probably too old to know him, but couples come all the time trying to learn his routine for their wedding" She said, but his face was still puzzled "You are not very familiar with pop culture, for an actor living in L.A. I mean" She stood up and walked towards her kitchen "Do you want anything? I have wine, beer, orange juice?" She called from the other room.

"Beer is fine, and is because I only became an actor recently" He said with some embarrassment in his voice taking the bottleshe offered him "I used to amm... sell auto parts in Cleveland"

"Ohio, that's ... far" she said taking a sip of her drink.

"And before that I was a Marine" He add and she almost spit her beer but did her best to pass it down.

"Oh wow, that's unusual. I would definitely say thank you for your service, but I'm antiwar so what if I gave you a 10 percent off on the lessons and we call it even?" She grin at him

"Don't worry about that, I don't like to make a big deal about it anyway" He said sincerely "Also I'm pretty sure you are wasting your time with me"

"Don't be so harsh on yourself, here look" She took the laptop off his hands and found a video of a ginger man singing a cheezy song about eternal love "See he is not properly dancing, but he act like he is, so first you have to learn how to lead, come on take off your shoes"

"Take them off? Why?" He asked while she got rid off her heels and let her bare feet touch the wooden floor.

"Because, and I mean this with respect" She said standing and looking for a record to put in her old record player until she found one "You are huge, and I'm afraid you would step on me with those shoes" a slow rhythm start playing and he did what she asked and stood barefoot in front of her.

"That doesn't sound like the other songs" Although he like it.

"Because you have to learn to walk before you can run, now, put both of your hands on my hips" She said getting closer to him.

"Like this?" It was funny how without the heels she was way shorter and couldn't completely reach her neck so she settled for put both hands on his shoulders.

"Fine now listen to the music and move" She said moving her body rhythmically "There you go, now move me, lead, right or left, is your choice" She said letting him take small steps and occasionally looking down to watch his feet.

"This is not that bad actually" Barry was actually enjoying himself, then the music start going faster and she took his right hand on hers and pull away from him and he chose to ignore the feeling of lost that caused him.

"Now, the hand on my back has to be steady, and lead, we can spin" She said and taught him how "Or we can walk" She started walking back slowly letting him follow the steps at his own pace. "Is all about who is leading" She gave him a smile and they kept dancing until the music was ending and since he had confidence now he make her spin and catch her on his arm like Janice's partner did on the clip.

"Sorry I always wanted to try that" he said once she was standing next to him.

"It was great, you are getting it, now we can try to improve your actual steps, but we should go downstairs, my husband is about to comeback and he hates having music on when he is working" She put on her shoes again and walked out followed by Barry.

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rideboldlyride · 6 years ago

Text

Repeat : The Mission

Despite the constant threat of rain in the distance, the skies over Beacon Academy stayed mercifully clear. The hours of time spent prepping her hair and makeup weren’t going to waste this night, it would appear. But the lightning popping just outside the campus made her move with alacrity from cover to cover towards the main hall.

Slipping into the front door, she breathed a sigh of relief. All the rest of her teammates had already arrived to the dance, but she had insisted upon finishing up her last few pieces of class work.

That’s what leaders are supposed to do, right? she reasoned, it wasn’t like I had a date. Not like the rest of them.

The main hall had been transformed. It was awash with the glitter of a thousand crystals. In the intended darkness and gloom of the dance floor, the flashing of the not so distant lightning caught the facets of the crystals spread about the room. For a moment no one noticed her arrival, and she allowed herself to be overwhelmed. Team CRLN had done a beautiful job.

In her solace, she watched her teammates flutter about the room.

Tai and Raven were the couple to be, in sweeping colors, light and dark, yin and yang across the floor. Ever the debonair, Tai twirled his striking woman, instilling envy in all the other men and women present. Eyes sparkling, Raven was a glorious sight to see.

Qrow... was Qrow. A beautiful lady in arm, one she recognized by face, not name, was different than the one she had met last week. Blushing away as he whispered something most likely scandalous in her ear, it was obvious that she was under the slight haze of alcohol, no doubt supplied by her partner.

Elsewhere about the room, the crowd undulated and swarmed, colors and sparkles of every kind hypntoizing to the beat. The sensation was beginning to overwhelm the petite young woman, pressing, pushing. A clear voice broke through the static, pushing back on the masses.

"Slightly overwhelming, is it not, Miss Rose?"

Shaking her head to clear it, she took a moment to respond to the speaker.

"Yes, Professor Ozpin, it can be."

"It's quite obvious to see the Atlesean influence in CRLN's design, wouldn't you agree?"

Nodding, she reveled in the peace and quiet that proximity to the headmaster seemed to invoke.

An eyebrow raised, the Professor was the first to break the silence.

"I'm glad you took this time to come. I was concerned when your teammates arrived without you."

"Well, they had reasons to be here."

"Oh?"

The young woman raised an arm to the dance floor, gesturing to her teammates and their dates, preoccupied.

"Ah. I see." Clearing his throat, the professor shuffled slightly, as if nervous. "Well, Miss Rose, I would warn you to not diminish your worth as to a companion. Or the worth of a gathering of this sort without said companion."

A slight smile tugged at her lips. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Indeed, you are. I am still surprised that you had none ask you..."

"I never said that I wasn't asked, Professor."

Finally turning to actually face the young woman, the older man's brow shot up, an unspoken question across his eyes.

She sighed, considering how best to explain her thoughts. Settling in to an answer that both answered and was polite enough, she continued.

"There was none that I wanted to be here with."

It was the headmaster's turn to offer up a slight smile.

"I see."

"Professor... I've seen when two people aren't picky on who they choose. I am intimately familiar. I have no desire to live like that."

"And why waste time when you don't see any potential to begin with?"

A slight blush creeped up to the woman's cheeks.

"That makes it sound so very callous..."

A thoughtful look crossed his face.

"Not callous. Merely... far-seeing. Not a bad trait."

"I just..." The redheaded woman, at loss for words, glanced out into the dance floor, where an inebriated young woman giggled uncontrollably as she stepped on her partner's toes. Qrow was beginning to show signs of frustration. It dawned on Summer what she was trying to define.

"I don't want to be like Qrow."

For the first time in her life, she heard the headmaster laugh.

"Miss Rose, I don't think you would ever be viewed like Qrow."

She puffed out a breath, frustrated. "I don't want to just take what's offered by any and everyone. Qrow jumps from one girl to the next. I don't even know the name of this most current girl, and I doubt she's going to last the night... That's what I mean by not being like Qrow."

"Quite honestly, I don't think Qrow wants to be like Qrow."

"What do you me--"

"As for you, Miss Rose, it's a good way to be. And I am certain you will find someone that you will wish to spend this time with you, and vice versa. Someone you will not 'settle' with, but rather choose."

Turning distinctly away, he signified the end of their conversation.

"In the meantime, I hope you do get at least a single dance. Grace in battle is often a sign of grace in dance, wouldnt you agree?"

"I'll try my best, Professor."

---

Qrow heaved out a deep sigh as he stepped out of the door and on to the balcony. Glancing down at the scuffed toes of his shoes, he looked angrily back to the ballroom where his inebriated date was loudly searching for him. He shut the door behind him.

Pulling his flask from it's hidden pouch in his jacket, he swirled it, contented to find it mostly full still.

What a freakin' lightweight. She had one, maybe two shots, and she's sloshed.

Taking a swig, he glanced down the length of the balcony. He noticed a student - a young woman - at the far end. Her face turned away, her slight form was draped with a deep red, flowing gown, gathered at her neck, elbow and wrist, but hugged at all the right spots. Hair tucked up into intricate pulls and tacks, the bandit found himself wondering why he had missed this beauty inside.

Tucking his flask away again, his lopsided smirk fell into it's usual place, and he began his walk towards the young woman.

"Hey the--" she turned at his voice, and he knew instantly why he hadn't seen her. "--re, Sum."

He quickly shifted gears. "What are you doing out here?"

She raised a brow. "I could ask you the same."

"She was a lightweight. You?"

Shrugging, she turned back to gaze out into the horizon where the storm was still raging. He joined her in leaning against the balcony edge.

"Your date?"

She scoffed. "What date?"

"You've got to be kidding me. Somebody had to have asked?"

"Oh they asked. I just..." She seemed nervous to confess whatever was in her mind. "I didn't want to come with any of them."

Not sure how to respond, Qrow joined her in watching the storm for a moment. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his flask.

"Nip?"

He was surprised to have their team leader wrench his flask away so quickly.

"Hell yes."

---

The empty flask laid on it's side between them on the stone barrier.

"What is that stuff, Qrow??" Summer chuckled contentedly, her face awash in an alcohol induced blush.

"Just a little something from back home." Flushed himself, he was smiling genuinely at the young woman. "I can't believe we just finished that flask and you're still standing. It's like 150 proof..."

She waved a careless hand. "Eh, reminded me of home."

His eyes glinted mischeviously. "If that's how your home is, I think I'd like it there."

"You would."

From the inside ballroom, a loud clear voice called out last song. Furrowing his brow, the lanky young man turned to his teammate.

"Did you dance at all?"

The young woman shook her head.

"Did you want to?"

She shrugged, trying too hard to seem uninterested in the conversation. Setting his jaw, he grabbed her hand, pulling her away from the edge of the balcony and into his arms.

"Qrow, what are --?"

"It's a dance, isn't it?"

"... Yes..."

"And you'd like to dance, right?"

"I guess, yeah..."

"Then let's dance."

"But-"

"Will you stop talking about this and just dance with me, Rose?"

Her face pulled into a look of false offense, before morphing into a smile.

"Yessir."

Pulling her gently closer, the soft music wafted out on to their private balcony, twisting and wrapping about them on the increasing wind. Slowly, the stiffness in her shoulders eased and she began to melt into his touch.

There was something intoxicating about his touch on her, she found, as he moved them across their private dance floor. Maybe, she thought, just maybe she was finding who she wanted to be around. To be held by. To...

No.

She willed that thought away, firmly forcing her mind into enjoying a moment. A comfortable, inebriated moment. Summer dropped her head to his chest, watching with detached contentedness as the distant storm neared.

Still, when he continued to hold her even after the song's last few notes had died off, swaying to the completed melody, she didn't want him to stop. And when he did stop, she didn't want him to let her go.

Raising her head finally, she found him gazing down at her, her own expression mirrored. Silver met garnet and she was lost.

His hands on her bare arms, gently gently on her shoulders. They were calloused. She didn't realize how calloused they were before. But the touch- so gentle, so kind. Cupping her jaw, thumbs brushing her cheeks. The haze...

So softly his lips on hers. Patient, inviting, tender. Her body no longer wanted her weight, so she leaned into him. A turn, and the kiss started to deepen and--

Krak-thoom!

The nearby lightning strike jolted her out of her stupor. Both shared a glance, and before either could speak, the clouds opened up on them.

A blush burst forth on Summer Rose's cheeks as they both laughed, soaked already in the sudden downpour.

"Cold shower, got it!" Qrow yelled out at the heavens.

Summer smiled back at him, but stepped away.

"We should go inside..."

"Yeah," Raven called as she opened the balcony door to them. "that might be smart if you prefer to be alive."

Summer was the first in, Qrow on her heels, pausing first to snatch up his empty flask.

Raven gripped a soggy lapel of his, turning him to her as she closed the door behind him.

"Strings..."

Qrow rolled his eyes.

"Says the girl who's screwing over who again...?"

"Strings don't tangle me up like they always have you... Don't forget your mission."

Both of his hands shot up.

"Listen, sis, it was just a kiss. Nothing more."

She eyed him suspiciously.

"Trust me, once the liqour is out of her system, she'd rather have kissed Port."

His sister's nose crinkled.

---

The clock on the wall beat out every second like a drum. Summer Rose laid awake in her bed, fully aware of every moment passing. It was twelve past three in the morning. She had counted every second. The liquor had long dissipated, but she was certain of the migraine in the morning.

Her silver eyes pierced the darkness, accustomed to the gloom. He slept soundly across from her, his head turned towards her.

She knew it was passing.

She knew it was the liquor.

She knew he wasn't really interested.

She knew it was all a game for him.

But in that one evening, she knew she had found who she wanted to be with. Who she was having a hard time imaging not being around.

Qrow "Ladies Man" Branwen.

Dammit.

#rideboldlyride #rwby #qrow branwen #summer rose #hummingbird #flown north #qrow #qrow x summer #rwby fanfiction #hunter's dream #dusty rose #summer x qrow #team strq #rbr #i freakin did it #i got inspiration and WROTE #it took all day for something that would have been an hour's worth of writing #but i did it!

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